Reckoning to Come
by Breeze1
Summary: After surviving the Kazon and returning to Voyager Tom has to deal with his long kept secrets being discovered. FINISHED...At Last :
1. Default Chapter

Reckoning To Come  
  
By: Breeze  
  
Disclaimer: Paramount owns Startrek Voyager and everything else they say they own, I however *grins evily* have claimed rights to the planet of earth and all its people…ummm, actually I don't really have any rights, except those listed under the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms…  
  
NOTES: I don't remember much about this episode, so what you are about to read you can claim as a missing scene, and an alternate universe. The episode is the one where Tom flushes out Seska's spy and is aboard her Kazon ship.  
  
Rating: pg13  
  
  
  
Sweat tickled a path down his forehead and across his cheek, an annoying itch begging for attention as his entire brow was soaked in it. Yet as annoying as it was, how it dripped into his eyes, and blurred his vision, he remained staring ahead, emotionless. The heavy breath of the stinking Kazon remained constant as they stood to his side. Their fire arms gripped tightly, a sneer on their faces. One of them, the taller and more confident of the two, kept jabbing him in the ribs, trying to win a reaction. He just stood with his hands to his side.  
  
He wasn't a fool, he knew he could have taken out one guard, but two alert soldiers was too much for him to handle right now. He needed to set up his sensors and wait for Voyager to rescue him and that was it. Nothing more. He wasn't going to die over a stupid escape attempt. The last time he'd tried that he'd almost lost the use of his right leg.  
  
The unmistakeable sound of a door sliding open and shut announced the entrance of someone new. He didn't bother to try and look behind him, and waited silently, as he'd been doing all along.  
  
"Tom Paris." The woman's voice got his blood boiling in rage simply from assaulting his ears. He remained silent, but couldn't help the clenching of his fists. He noticed one of the guards shift, reminding him of how he was out numbered. "The Thomas Eugene Paris" she cackled and her voice was like nails on a chalkboard. Coming around o face him he glared into her hardened eyes, his lips thinning as he pressed them together in anger. "I want to thank you for dropping in, providing some needed attention. These Kazon boys are fun and all, but there's nothing like tormenting a human." She grinned, cocking her head slightly to the left, looking at him like a cat would a mouse.  
  
"You have nothing to say? That's interesting. The last time I saw you, you always seemed ready to share your two cents worth. A lot must have changed since I was forced to leave Voyager."  
  
"I wouldn't know." He broke his code of silence. "Not being a member of her crew, I don't have much view on those things."  
  
"I see. Poor poor Tommy." She tittered and stepped closer, a mere foot and a half away. He could see her planning out her moves in her head. Like a strategic chess game, one that all Cardassian's loved to play. Which direction to move, what was the quickest, or most efficient way to victory? Slowly she planned, and then pulled a long nailed hand up to caress his jaw. He moved his hand out of her grip. She didn't like that, digging her nails in and holding him where she wanted. He should choke her now, while she was so close. Kill her, or hold her hostage until his own release but he couldn't seem to bring himself to do it, and she knew this. She knew.  
  
"What's wrong Thomas? Are you afraid of me? No, I don't think so, but I do know that you are afraid of what my people are capable of. Isn't that right?" Her cold eyes laughed and he forced his angered gaze to not turn away in shame. He hated her, he hated her kind. Everything about them reeked of madness, or torment. They thrived on war, on others pain. Even herein the Delta Quadrant it was no different. She laughed, digging her nails harder. And then her other hand was resting lightly on his shoulder. Leaning intimately close to his ear, her deadly breath caressing, and she whispered, so quietly, so knowingly and he hated her, and feared her. He could do nothing.  
  
"I know Thomas. I know what they did to you." Her finger drawing a slow line across his shoulder and down to his chest, stopping as the base of his sternum; tracing a long vanished scar. "My people prided the day they captured you, took you to the base as a guest. A most honoured guest, one so fresh out of Starfleet, such a powerful name." He shuddered. "But you wouldn't listen to their politics, wouldn't see the will my people had to help you. You, of all people. One of the most despised beings of Starfleet. You wouldn't break." She pulled back abruptly and backhanded him across the face. His vision slightly blurred as he stared calmly past her, his sweat now moisturizing the back of her fist. She glared, baring her teeth. He did nothing.  
  
"I know you're up to something Paris. I will not bother to ask what. But when we are finished with Voyager I'll come back to you. My people have not yet finished what they started all those years ago. But I will." She growled, a feral grin marring once beautiful features, now distorted by the face of Cardassia. His most hated enemy. They stole his father from him. They almost stole his own will to live. There was no way he would allow that to happen again, and a sly grin of his own graced his lips. The ice in his eyes causing her to pause momentarily as he gazed into her hateful soul. For a moment he saw her flinch, loose her confidence, a brief flicker of fear as his own hate towards her, her kind, outweighed any that she had seen. And she knew that if alone with him she would die.  
  
Then, as though she'd never shown weakness, she grinned and twisted on a black heel, calling over her shoulder. "I'll be back to talk to you later Paris." And the doors were heard once again sliding open and shut and Tom stood frozen to his place. His hate almost overwhelming, hand clenching. He should finish these Kazon off and hunt her down. But no, Voyager, thought they didn't realize it, were depending on him. He'd control the pain, not of his own torture, but that of the Klingon child that had been ripped apart before him, in the prison of Cardassia so long ago. He swore vengeance against those bastards, but he had to stay alive and make it back to Earth before that would happen.  
  
Until then, he would survive anything, because once he'd been rejected from Starfleet, he'd found a mission for life. His soul mission. 


	2. chapter 2

First off I apologize for not continuing this sooner, but seeing as I wasn't going to continue it at all I suppose this is better than nothing ;)  Thanks to the four of you who reviewed before.  I really appreciate that!

Warning: Deals with concept of torture and stuff…I hope it came across decently.  This is not beta'd.

Reckoning To Come

Fear, there was always fear but it was only a drop of water in the ocean compared to the pain.  The endless suffering pain, their cries, screams, death.  It was the place most people didn't know existed, and those that did know never really understood what it was.  Oh they tried, they believed they knew from injuries, medical files, counselling reports, descriptions of how it was.  The truth…even to people who lived through it, which was too rare for words, was always to much to comprehend fully.  It was like looking through a fogged glass pane, seeing everything on the other side but not being able to see enough to get the entire picture.  Well he, he was more like an obsidian plate, you saw everything he wished for you to see on its black reflection, a meal that was given but the ingredients were lost.  

He was back now, on Voyager, wandering through the halls at an ungodly hour in the morning simply because he was to agitated to sleep.  His adrenalin refused to stop secreting, refused to let him relax.  He'd been back for five days, five wonderful days where he'd been praised by few and ignored by many.  It was exactly as he'd thought it would be.  Every day he felt himself slipping a little more, wanting to give into urges to scream at every one of these ignorant people.  His nostrils flared as he breathed in heavily through his nose, an attempt for control.  They didn't know anything, and he knew too much.

He always knew too much.

Tom finally found himself back in front of his quarters, letting himself in quietly he prepared to spend more time shutting himself away from the world, his ship.  And the cycle bled on.

()()()()()

"There's something wrong with him Neelix." He frowned at his little pixie, slightly agitated at her concern for the pilot and more agitated that it might have merit.  His sweet Kes was hardly ever wrong with her feelings.

"How so?" It was her turn to frown, her eyebrows drawing together in a cute little pout.

"I don't know.  I just…he's different and at the same time I don't think he's changed.  Something happened to him maybe, something he's not telling us." 

"Something from when he was with that Seska woman and the Kazon?"

"Maybe.  I don't know."

"Well sweetums, I wish I could help but if you don't know I don't see what we can do.  Maybe if you spoke with someone who knows him better, like Mr. Kim, or the captain."  He tried to suggest helpfully.  Her frown deepened.

"I spoke with Harry earlier, he said Tom was fine, a little tired but his normal cocky self.  The captain has been to busy to notice anything."

"Well, perhaps the commander will know how to help.  He is the unofficial councillor onboard, or perhaps Mr. Vulcan will know." She sighed and nodded tiredly in agreement.  She only wished she knew what was wrong.

()()()()()

"Comander?  Could I have a moment with you please?"  The well built man looked up from his dinner to the sparkling blue eyes of the resident Ocampan, and held back a frown at her serious look.

"Of course Kes, please, have a seat."   When she settled she looked right at him, it was obvious she wasn't one to beat around the bush.

"Commander how well do you know Lieutenant Paris." He was immediately wary, his nerves being poked at by the mere mentioning of the pilots name.  

"Well enough.  Why?" he noticed she frowned slightly at his comment but ignored it.  It wasn't a secret that he didn't like Paris, and right now after that rude apology over Neelix's show the blonde was even lower in his regard than usual.

"I think there is something bothering him, something beyond normal ship duties."

"Why would you think this?" He tried to sound interested, for Kes's sake.

"It's his aura, its disturbed somehow but it hasn't changed."  He frowned now, he knew she could read people extraordinarily well, almost empathically.  If she was this worried about Tom it was his obligation to really listen.

"If it hasn't changed than why is there a problem?  Everyone is disturbed sometimes, especially out here in the quadrant."  He stopped when she began to shake her head in denial.

"No, not Tom.  He's one of the most collected people on this ship!" He wanted to laugh at that but held back because of the seriousness in her tone.  She thought she was really onto something with the pilot.  "I'm worried Commander.  He's radiating his darkness more and it scares me.  I don't know what happened on that Kazon ship Commander but whatever it was must not have been pleasant.  I think he needs help, I just don't know why or what kind."

"His darkness?"

"Yes.  Comander you know what I'm talking about.  That inner part of someone that is kept hidden, its anger and hate and there's so much of it Chakotay!  And it's been with him all along, I realize that now but it's beginning to come to emerge within him." He was beginning to worry now, if Tom was this upset over something that happened on the Kazon ship, and he didn't know what that could be, than it needed to be dealt with.

"Do you feel he could be a danger to anyone?"

"I don't know.  I doubt it, unless he had reason, he's too in control for that.  Understand Commander, he's not controlled by it, it doesn't feel like it will change anything about how he acts to other people.  But I wanted to let you know about it.  Maybe you could help him." She looked hopeful and he sighed.

"I'll try Kes, but Tom and I don't get along all that great.  He might not even talk to me and I can't force him to."

"As long as you're aware Commander.  Thank you." She smiled a confident smile and rose from the seat, heading back to the galley.  He poked at his food, glad it was a cold meal in the first place and began to eat.  He'd go and talk to Tom later.

()()()()()

Tom rose from the pilot seat and stretched slightly, hearing the satisfied crack of some vertebrae.  As much as he loved piloting Voyager that chance to stretch at the end of shift was always something to look forward to.  He gazed quickly around the bridge, assessing that things were okay and then headed to the turbolift.  Most of the alpha shift had already cleared out but Baytart had been caught up in sickbay getting a broken finger healed, he only just managed to get on shift.

He put effort into making his stride as casual as normal, he ignored the glare from the Ensign at Ops, an ex-maquis that was still irked about his previous attitude to Chakotay.  He shrugged it off, just as he did almost every time he passed one of them.  His status on the ship had been set back to squareone because of his last mission and it was all Seska's fault.  His heart jumped at the thought of her name, anger dominant to the fear but the fear always lurked.  He hated his weakness, he hated Seska, he more than hated the Cardassians.

The rage erupted in no time at all and he found himself rushing to his quarters, changing into sweats and a baggy t-shirt and he headed to the gym.  Storming in he took little notice of the one other occupant who was running a marathon on the tread path at the other end of the room.  Tom headed straight to the punching bag, slipping on thin knuckle covering gloves and he went at it with a fury that he had not yet released on Voyager except in the privacy of the holodeck.

Her face consumed him, her hateful grin that showed teeth he imagained were as sharp as razors.  The diamond like ridge on her forehead sticking out like a bullseye, it dared him to try and shoot her in between the eyes.  But when the time came, if he could help it, she would die slowly, and painfully, piece by piece.  He would slowly rip her apart like her kind had done to him, to those others that he couldn't save.  He couldn't save them, even though he would have gladly traded his life for there's they wouldn't take it.  They'd wanted more and more and more and oh god the little boy and girl!  He acknowledged a sharp pain in his hands as he pummelled the bag but he didn't stop, the horrors and pain consuming him and the bag was Seska, it was Cardassia, it was the death of a race…

A hand gripped his shoulder, lightly, and he snapped around like a whip grabbing his attacker and slamming it against the wall.  His forearm plastered against the pale throat ready to choke the life out or snap the neck given any reason.  His nostrils flared nosily his jaw locked shut like a bull dog and he looked up into the dark eyes of a man lost in shock.  Chakotay.  And reality flooded back like the bursting of Hoover dam and he began to release the rock still man but suddenly found himself being whipped around and thrown to the ground.

He didn't struggle at all as the air was knocked from his chest and his arms were twisted up and painfully across his back.  He tried to catch his breath, his mind focused on what he'd done.  He's attacked Chakotay.  He'd lost control over his emotions where people could get hurt and he attacked Chakotay.  He could have killed him.  He was so stupid!

Chakotay leaned against the wall, remembering to breath as he looked at the man pinned to the floor by two security guards.  Ayala looked up at him, concern in his eyes as he pinned the pilot ruthlessly to the ground.

"Are you okay Commander?" Chakotay snapped back to reality in an instant.

"I'm fine, glad I brought you along though." He grinned slightly but it faded when Ayala didn't respond, his dark eyes now focused on the man underneath him, a drown covered his handsome face.  

"Commander?"  Chakotay stepped over to them and bent over slightly to see what Ayala now pointed at.  Toms back had been exposed in is removal from Chakotay and fall to the ground, his shirt rode up to the centre of his back, his pale and well muscled flesh was slick with a fine layer of sweat.  His heaving chest and a slight tremor the only movement in the room as three pairs of eyes focused.

The bare patch of skin was slightly risen in a mottle of rigid flesh, the shape of a diamond.  Underneath it a series of Cardassian hieroglyphs that were all too familiar to the experienced Maquis eye.  And never seen by either on a live being before.  It was a prison number, for CianKa Adasta.  Chakotay froze, as still as a statue along with Ayala.  The third man, Ensign Sidor, didn't know what the problem was but kept quiet, watching the two men and gazing in curiosity at the painful looking tattoo.  A hand, Ayala's free one, reached out and gently, so gently, brushed his index finger across the violent marking as if to test that it was really there.  That was all it took to shatter the silence that had overcome them.

Tom Paris had finally snapped back into the present time noticing the deathly silence.  He didn't know what to think of it, until a feather light finger brushed his back, across that spot.  The one marking he'd kept to remind him.  He panicked.  He body started to thrash as he attempted to twist away from the tight grips, he swore in a language that he was sure none of them knew and then felt himself rolling away on his own violation, his arms released.

He stilled on his stomach and snapped his head to glare at the three men even as he pushed himself up to a standing position.  He was still an inch taller than all of them and he felt himself shut his emotions off.  Now was not the time, and it appeared that the Commander didn't know what to say. 

"You shouldn't grab a guy when he's working out Commander.  Are you okay?"

"I'm fine Lieutenant.  I apologize, I should have known better than to approach you the way I did when you were that focused." Tom nodded stiffly, unconsciously pulling his shirt lower across his back.

"Will there be any reprimands sir?"  He asked casually, finally becoming aware of a throbbing in his hand, he didn't glance at it.

"No.  I do however want you to report to sickbay and get that hand looked it.  Some fingers look broken." It appeared the Commander had gotten a good look though, at a number of things.

"Yes sir." He left, not waiting for a proper dismissal, and in the hallway he stifled a scream of frustration.  They knew, things wouldn't be the same again.  The couldn't.  God he was so stupid!

Chakotay dismissed ensign Sidor, who gave them both an apprehensive look before departing and he turned to find Ayala staring at him.

"CianKa Adasta." He almost whispered.  "He's…a survivor of that place and nobody knew!  How could we not know!"

"I don't know."  Cakotay answered shaking his head slowly in thought.

"I mean we knew everybody who went in there!  So did Starfleet!  How could he be missed!  And how the hell did he manage to survive.  My God Chakotay!  All this time and we've treated him so horribly!" There was only one thing that ever got to Ayala this much and that was the misfortune of others at the hands of Cardassian's.  Cakotay was still trying to link what he knew of the Cardassian main prisoner of war detention camp with Tom Paris.  There was no way the young man had been there, and yet it seemed he had been.  Its amazing how much one scar could change you entire perception of a human being.  He breathed out deeply and shook his head slowly.

"Don't spread this around Ayala.  He deserves his privacy." After an confirmation nod he turned and left.  He needed to speak with the Captain and her security officer about this.  If they knew about this than to say that Chakotay was going to rip them a new one was underestimating him, like he'd underestimated Tom.


	3. chapter 3

"Paris." He stopped dead in his tracks and held his back stiff, not turning around to face his caller.  Choosing to wait and see what he wanted.  "The next time you decide to mimic a hero you better make sure you watch who you make a fool of.  I will not have you disrespecting Chakotay's name again." Ah, so that was what this was about.  Tom contained a sigh and turned around, levelling his gaze with Simonion, one of the 'former' Maquis.

"I'm flattered you'd call my assignment an act of heroism and I'm glad you appreciate your own likelihood enough to thank me for saving it." Simonion glared at the twist of his threatening words and Tom took a step closer, using his height to full advantage.  "As for my actions towards the Commander, I believe those were explained in great detail and a formal apology was made."

"I don't give a damn about your flake apology Paris.  I am not the only one who doesn't like you being here, and we won't tolerate you disrespecting our ways."

"What are your ways ensign?  Because as I last recall you were an acting member of Starfleet.  If there was a mutiny while I was gone I think I'd know about it." He cocked his head slightly.  "Or perhaps it's still in the plan book waiting for the perfect opportunity to be put into play." Simonion's face paled in shock at the accusation.

"Mutiny? I. No!  I'm not planning one! No one is!  It's crazy!  You-" Tom grabbed the front of the suddenly stuttering mans uniform and roughly pushed him against the corridors wall, moving right into his face.

"I'm perfectly aware there is no mutiny ensign, what I'm not so sure of is why the hell you ex-maquis" he hissed their title as an insult,  "believe that I am still below your level." He put a little more pressure on the mans chest and then released him.  "You will get your insubordinate attitude under check or I will make sure the floor is wiped with your ass.  Do you understand me ensign Simonion?" Tom glared at the tanned being, whose eyes showed shock at the treatment.  Then the shock disappeared and he straightened, angrily gazing back.

"Yes sir." 

"Good.  Dismissed."  Tom ordered and the man angrily stalked away.  Heading again in the direction of his quarters Tom kept his features stony and most people steered clear of him, unfortunately not all.

"Lieutenant." The order was sharply barked and this time he turned to greet his commanding officer, someone he'd managed to avoid the last day and a half, too bad it wasn't longer.

"Commander Chakotay.  What can I do for you?" The mans dark eyes quirked at the defensiveness in Tom's voice, immediately coming to the realization that this conversation probably wouldn't end in a civil way.  Yet it seemed most of their conversations were less than stellar in the good attitude area.

"Answer a couple of questions."

"No problem." Was the guarded reply and it was as if a few more mental shields were tossed up behind the cocky mans eyes as he waited for the onslaught.

"Not here.  My quarters okay with you?"  This time the hesitancy was obvious, especially in the reply.

"Not if your planning revenge for the insults I've been hurtling at you the last while." The weak joke fell flat.

"I'm a commanding officer, I get revenge in more subtle ways." It didn't drop Tom's defences in the slightest but a moment later they were standing in Chakotay's home.

"Would you like a drink?"

"No thank you." Was the instant reply.  It was with sad regret that Chakotay realized Tom still refused to accept drinks from him.  When they first started as a crew Chakotay had thought that it was another little animosity act directed at him from the arrogant pilot and he had taken offence every time the slight attempt of kinship was declined.  It had actually taken several months for him to notice that the only people he accepted drinks or even food from was Harry, the Captain, Neelix, or Kes.  It appeared that over time he hadn't changed his ways and Chakotay was always caught up wondering why.  

Now, after the scene in the gym the day before, Chakotay was starting to piece things together.  The problem was that as bad as it made him feel he couldn't trust Tom enough to believe the marking on his back was really from CianKa Adasta.  After Tom's two betrayals to the Maquis and more personally to Chakotay, the commander couldn't be sure if the marking was some kind of elaborate ruse to gain their trust, a set up that was so obvious it was insulting.  Chakotay didn't know what to believe, so for now he was going to play it safe.

"Care to sit down?" He carefully watched Tom consider and then accept the offered chair at the bare table.  Chakotay didn't get himself a drink as he sat across from the man and he allowed himself a moment to take a good look at him.  The hair was slightly disarrayed, the bags under his eyes more noticeable when he focused on the pale face and he couldn't help but worry if the pilot had been getting enough sleep.

He was still angry with Paris for the harsh attitude that had been directed at him since the undercover assignment began, but he understood that it had been necessary once everything had been explained.  The anger was really situated around how much joy the younger man had appeared to have from the act.  The other day in the gym, seeing Tom hit that punching bag with such primal power had sent Chakotay's instincts on wary.  Unfortunately they hadn't been fast enough and he'd disturbed Tom.  It had shocked him, no that was lying, it had scared him.  Tom Paris had scared him because for a moment there, pinned against that wall with the arm across his neck he had realised exactly how dangerous Paris could be.  He wasn't even prepared and he could have died.  He had lost control over the situation and he didn't even know how. 

Now he needed to speak with Paris, see if he could sort some things out, formulate some truths and find out where they stood with each other.  That as well as Kes expressing concern for the younger man's well being had edged him into playing counsellor.

He didn't think it was going to do any good.

"How are you feeling?" For a brief moment he was privy to a look of shock from the pilot's face before it was covered with a smooth and easy reply.

"Fine, now that I'm back a the wheel."

"Must have been tough being away."

"I survived."

"I know, what I don't know is how close you came to not surviving.  Care to enlighten me?"

"It's all in the Captain's report Commander."

"I'd like the uncensored bit please."

"Chakotay." Tom sighed, realising what Chakotay was doing.  "I'm really not feeling up to this right now.  Maybe next year when you can stand the sight of me we'll talk again." Now it was Chakotay's turn to pause a moment in surprise.  Did Tom really believe that he hated him that much?  Had he shunned him that completely?

"There's a problem with that.  Next year you'll have other things to resolve and we'll never get to the bottom of this."

"Well who knows, your people might finish me off before we ever have that chance." A tinge of bitterness edged into the otherwise mocking words.  That was good, anger always led somewhere.  However Chakotay began to worry about the direction this was going.  Was Tom going to begin blaming his problems on the ex-maquis?  Chakotay wouldn't put it past him, so he decided to ignore the last comment and move on. 

"Did something happen on the Kazon ship that makes you feel like you don't belong here?"

"Chakotay, the last place I belong is here, and trust me I've been well versed in that fact.  The Kazon are idiots, don't worry about what happened over there, its all in the report."

"Your report stated that you spoke with Seska." He pointed out and immediately Tom's eyes hardened, narrowing into laser beams of disgust.

"She said hi."

"Did she threaten you?"  Tom snorted and stood up, glaring.

"If you're so interested in how she's doing you should have just asked Chakotay.  She's fine, great in fact.  She's ruling over her little Kazon minions and loving every moment of it.  Now that you know how your precious Cardassian is I'll be going.  I have an early shift tomorrow and as you've probably guessed I need some sleep." He twisted around and walked with an angry grace, so smooth that the gate could have been described as dangerous.  Maybe it was.  Chakotay rose to his feet, his stomach churning at the twist of his words and tried to stop the man.

"Paris, we're not through."

"Yes, we are Commander.  Goodnight."  And he was gone, so fast that Chakotay was still trying to catch up to what was going on.  If Paris misinterpreted everything he said like he just had than it was no wonder they hadn't been working over their differences.  The man was like an enigma, you think you understand and then boom, something makes you realize that everything you thought was wrong.  Then you started worrying that what you were beginning to believe about the individual could be as wrong as the last belief!  This was why Paris was the most annoying person Chakotay had ever met!  The man wouldn't remain in the same image long enough to be understood.  And thinking about all this was beginning to confuse Chakotay himself.  To top it off they hadn't even spoken about the marking.

Oh to hell with this!  Chakotay stormed to the door.  "Computer, locate Lieutenant Paris."  

"Lieutenant Paris is in holodeck one."  It was time he understood Paris.  He wanted answers, he wanted the truth and he wanted to know it now!

Tom hadn't answered Chakotay's request to enter the holodeck so he had stalked in uninvited, looking about the brightly lit park in curiosity.  For a moment he stopped his search for the aggravating pilot and admired the surroundings.  Chakotay was no fool; he knew how long it took to create a program of this perfection, yet like all of Tom's programs it probably hadn't taken much.  The most skilled man at the helm that Chakotay had ever known was also skilled beyond belief in programming.  It made him wonder what else Tom knew and wasn't letting on about.

It wasn't large, twenty meters away stood a wooden structure with bright plastic mixed into it.  A child, a small girl it sounded like, giggled and ran up a ladder built from rubber circles.  Odd.  Large trees circled the space, a willow whistling softly in the gentle breeze, green maples standing sturdy along side oak.  A nice mixture.  There were other holo characters around as well.  Two men and a women were playing with the child on the wooden structure, chasing her.

Four others were resting in various places, none talking with each other, just lying on the grass staring at the clouds or reading something from a book.  It was so peaceful Chakotay wanted to just go and sit with them, enjoy the calm and easy companionship they seem to have rolling around.  One man looked up, he was obviously Bolian from his blue skin, and his eyes narrowed into wary slits.  He watched as Chakotay strode past him like he was a threat, an intruder.  It made him feel almost guilty, but he ignored it.  He had spotted Paris leaning against a solid maple, watching the people on the playground, and in a few long strides he was standing over the man.

"Mind if I join you?"  Tom simply shifted over, making room to lean along side him.  He just kept watching the group on the playground.

"Mind if I ask where we are?"

"A fictional haven Chakotay."  Chakotay blinked.  What?

"I'm sorry but I don't quite follow."

"You seemed to have no problems following me here." Despite the negative words there was no real emotion in his voice.  It was disconcerting.  Tom Paris and anger didn't usually depart so quickly in such a short time.

"I wasn't finished speaking with you." Tom chuckled, finally shifting his eyes to the skyline, a sarcastic little grin covering his face, which knew what it held underneath.

"Nobody ever is."  Again Chakotay found himself at a loss for words.  Damn it, this man was not helping him at all in this conversation, throwing in sarcastic remarks, changing the conversation with such ease that it took Chakotay a moment to realize his original question had been expertly side stepped.  He sighed in exasperation, which drew an amused glance from the pilot.

"Tom!" a high-pitched cry broke out and a little girl stopped in front of them, grinning feral teeth.  Bone ridges spreading across her forehead were beginning to mould into their permanent shape on her young and pale features.  Her eyes full of spark and a challenge directed towards Paris.  "Come play with us.  We're going to hunt a Magtar!" Her curls, knotted and un-kept, bounced around her face and she impatiently pushed them away.

"Not today."

"Tom, you never play!  I demand it!" She growled, her natural Klingon temper beginning to rise and Chakotay had to grin at her attempt at a glare.  Already so trained in the art she would no doubt turn into a demanding woman, drawing many males attention.

"I'm not going to play.  Go join Taran and the others.  Hunt me a magtar, I demand it."  Her eyes lit up in anticipation.

"I will catch the largest one there is!" she beat a tiny fist to her chest then turned and ran off to join the awaiting adults and a boy who had joined the group.  Looking at Tom the smile died on his lips at the expression covering his face.  Anger, a rage so deep it turned his eyes to an almost crystal glare.  And then with one blink the emotion was gone, replaced by the solemn calm of before.

"Why won't you play?"

"What?" Tom finally looked startled and gazed his normal azure eyes on him.

"With the girl.  Why don't you join her?" Tom held his gaze a moment and then turned to watch the group, the adults following the child and mimicking her actions.  They grinned at each other whenever she wasn't watching, sharing the inside joke of indulgence.  It was warming to see, but it didn't appear to bring any pleasure to Tom.

"Chakotay, I am still not in the mood for answering questions."  

"Who are these people?"  Tom sighed, rubbing his temple tiredly. 

"I knew them once."

"Do you know them well?"

"I knew them enough." 

"So I take it you aren't really close."  Tom chuckled in that little sarcastic manner that made Chakotay want to hit him.

"We're too close Chakotay." Another cryptic answer.  Tom suddenly rose and the program shut off, Chakotay blinked in surprise to the sudden change.  "I'm actually going to head out and get the sleep I commented on earlier." 

"Tom, the mark on your back…" Chakotay let the question hang, waiting for a reply.  Tom paused at the door and twisted his head slightly to the side, Chakotay couldn't see his face.

"I don't think we're on a first name basis yet, Commander." And he left.

 This time Chakotay didn't follow him.  He sat on the holodeck grid floor and thought about what he 'd just learned.  Nothing.  Tom had a holodeck with people at a playground.  He also had one of a bar, a garage, a space flight simulation, and a rather elaborate rock climbing resort if Chakotay had heard correctly.  What did it mean?

He'd spoken with Janeway and Tuvok, demanding to know if they knew about Tom's tattoo.  They'd looked surprised that he'd asked so heatedly.  Tuvok said he didn't know anything about it, Janeway said it was some initiation Tom had undertaken, but she didn't know what.  Neither had been concerned and he had decided right then that he wasn't going to open the box any further.  The glint of curiosity in their eyes when he left them had told him that they were going to look into it one day, when they had the time.  Chakotay sighed and rose from the heat sucking grid and left for his own quarters.

()()()()()

Tom had headed back to his quarters at a brisk pace, adding his long legs to the factor he was there quicker than most would be able to accomplish.  As the door slid shut he activated privacy and stood still, eyeballing his quarters carefully.  Everything was in place, like he'd left it.  He let out a sigh of relief and slowly walked into his room.  Hidden away from prying eyes he allowed the exhaustion that plagued him come to the front lines.  

His shoulders sagged, his steps seemed to take enormous amounts of energy, and his eyes became hooded, almost closed.  He stripped his uniform routinely and sat at the end of his bed, staring at his closed closet door, hiding away his secrets.  He was so tired he could feel his skin begging him to lie down but he couldn't tear his eyes from the closet.  For five minutes he sat there, thinking.  

He hadn't expected Chakotay to follow him to the holodeck or enter it.  He supposed the Commander wanted to find some peace about the whole situation that was their relationship.  Or perhaps the lack there of it.  More likely it was the burnt mark on his back that he wanted to know about.  If he even believed it was real.  Tom had no delusions that the man would unconditionally believe he was ever a guest at CianKa Adasta.  If he had he would have no doubt done something by now, like apologize for his damn annoying "I'm above you" act that everyone on this ship liked to aspire to.  Besides that whatever the tattooed man had wanted to find out Tom was fairly certain it continued to elude him.  The thing that bothered Tom was that at this moment he didn't care.  That was dangerous, and it had been happening to often.

The past two weeks, since his return from Seska's grasp, he'd been falling into moments of nonchalance about everything that involved him and then switching to an almost desperate need to protect himself.  Not from the Maquis, quite frankly they'd never scared him, their threats of revenge for his 'traitorous' acts seemed hollow and childish.  Starfleet...well lets just say that the only way they currently threatened him was by leaving without proper dismissal when he worked with them, and there was really only three people he could do that too. Hat he needed was protection from himself.  He was his own worst enemy, and the Cardassian's had created that.  He stood abruptly and moved with a forceful step towards the closet, for a moment his sleep-deprived body was fuelled by an emotional adrenalin rush.

The door opened, the light automatically on, he reached in for the object.  He never went fully into his closet.  The basic knowledge that the door could shut him in scared him more than he ever cared to think about.  God he was a baby sometimes.  There, he found it.  Pulling the object from under a shoe he stood and went back to the bed.  This time sliding under the covers, his item resting on his stomach, one hand propping it up he examined it closely.  Every inch of it.

A Magtaur stuffed animal.  Black with a red tint to the patches of visible fur.  A child's animal.  It had belonged to the Klingon girl, before the Cardassians had ended her use of it.  However this particular toy was dressed in an oddity of things.  On one ear hung a Betazoid earring, the sign of their religion.  A tiny scarf wrapped around its neck, made from two materials.  One a soft leather, the other from a black bandanna that had once been used to tie back long hair of Woman.  A thin braid of her orange hair was dangling down the back of the animal.  A star like piece of metal, pure silver, was securely attached to one of its arms, it had been a present, imbedded into the skin of its occupant at the turn into adult hood.  One of his species greatest honours.  A white chain tightly wrapped around its neck, a black stone of volcanic glass with the initials K.R. delicately etched on its surface. The boy hadn't had any possessions to add to this reminder, he hadn't even had clothing when they'd brought him in. A tear rolled down Tom's cheek and he brushed it away angrily.  

He couldn't afford to be uncaring about himself anymore.  He needed to stay healthy, fight the good fight.  He couldn't be careless about things like his holoprogram being seen.  He would be the old Tom Paris, before his mission, before he met with the Cardassian Seska and had to leave her death to another day.  Yes, he would be the old Tom again, at least when he wasn't behind locked doors.  And he fell asleep, the animal clutched tightly under his arm.  And when he woke up he gained tight control of his emotions.  He was the only one in control here, there could never be a doubt about that.  He dressed for another shift.

TBC 

**Note:** exams are looming again, so I'm sorry but I can't say the next chapter will be out so quickly.  I hope you enjoyed it.


	4. 4

Hey! I apologize for taking so long with this part. After exams I needed some down time away from computers and typing and overall attempts at thinking. I hope you enjoy the chapter!  
  
Chapter 4  
  
The sun was hot, there was no breeze, and the uniform he had on was the most uncomfortable, irritating, suffocating material he had ever had the pleasure of wearing. Tom Paris wiped the back of his hand across his forehead and frowned slightly at the small amount of perspiration that came away. Sighing he paused in his harvesting work and slid the upper part of his black jumpsuit off his shoulders and tied it around his waist. The turtleneck he had on underneath did little to help cool down.  
  
He went back to picking the red, coconut like fruit. Every now and then he would pull his sweat soaked shirt away from his equally drenched body and attempt to shake it, trying to create a draft to cool him down. He'd been at it for about four hours now, harvesting his quota of fruits, and he hadn't had a drink since he began. He pricked his index finger on a small thorn and cursed quietly to himself. Then for good measure he cursed the sun and certain members of Voyager that he was currently on the planet with.  
  
Chakotay had contacted him about fifteen minutes before the mission had set off to the planet to inform him ensign Williams had fallen ill and Tom was replacing him as the field medic. That had been fine, he was always ready to get off the confines of the ship and breath some fresh air. However he hadn't had a lot of time to get ready, so when he'd been rushing to astrometrics to get a surface climate reading and Ensign Bristow had stopped him to say it was about fifteen degrees above freezing, he only paused a second. He distinctly remembered saying that was an odd temperature for a vegetable to grow in, and Bristow had shrugged and said it was a weird universe. Tom didn't know why he'd taken the ensigns word, especially considering his current status onboard the ship. People still hadn't forgiven him for acting so.inappropriately towards the Commander.  
  
Things never changed, and on this ship the fact that he was a senior officer as well as a Lieutenant J.G. did not stop the petty jokes, or cruel words. He checked his wrist chronometer. Five hours he'd been working. He wiped his head again and frowned at the lack of sweat. He really needed to get a drink. He noticed Bristow coming towards him carrying a storage container. The man stopped and set it down about ten meters away, where he made a show of peeling off the layers of his summer weather Starfleet issue jumpsuit to a thin white tank top, followed by a long drink of water from a canteen.  
  
Tom unconsciously licked his lips at the thought of water. Now, asking the ensign for some water would just be a joke on himself, so he took a breath and was about to call out to order the ensign to give him a drink when the slightly older man quickly dumped the water over his head, draining it too fast for Tom to stop the action. As the last drop fell the blond man looked at Tom and grinned slightly, shaking his dripping head before he turned and went to work at his selected tree.  
  
Tom counted to ten and tried to ignore the immature man that was only a short distance away. 'I will not kill a fellow officer. I will not kill a fellow officer.I will not kill, maim, damage, threaten, or even pay attention to said fellow officer.' The pilot felt himself clamping his jaw together so tightly that it was beginning to ache. He'd been informed that it would only be a three-hour away mission, and he had therefore neglected to bring water. He swore that the sun was getting hotter and thanked the fact that it was behind him instead of on his face. He didn't want to think about the burn he could be getting right now.  
  
He dropped another ten fruit into his storage container and then closed the full unit up. He looked at the heavy bin in disgust and could feel the pressure in his head mounting surprisingly fast. Well, this was the last bin he needed, he'd already taken nine to the beaming sight and on this trip he'd be able to return. With a longing sigh he bent and picked up the large container, wishing he had some cart to aid him. He stood tall with his burden and walked quickly past Bristow, hoping he didn't look as tired and frustrated as he felt. And after five minutes he was placing his fruit on the beaming site. He almost fell as he gently put it down, and for a brief moment darkness swam before his eyes. He recovered in time to see Chakotay march around a few yellow bushes and head toward him with his own unit. Tom automatically stood taller.  
  
"Lieutenant. Finished for the day?"  
  
"Yes sir." He waited in impatience as the darker skinned man took in his appearance, he noticed the man frown.  
  
"I can't help but notice you're wearing a cold weather uniform."  
  
"That's very perceptive of you sir." Tom replied professionally, hoping to annoy the man enough to get him to drop the subject. For some reason, unlike all the other times, it didn't work.  
  
"Care to explain why? You've got to be roasting in that thing."  
  
"The sauna in my room wasn't working sir, I felt this would be an efficient supplement." Chakotay looked at him strangely and Tom wanted to just tell him to let him get back to the ship before he passed out. God it was hot!  
  
"Did you leave your canteen where you were last harvesting? All equipment must be removed from the surface with departure, as I know you are aware of."  
  
"I am aware of it sir. I don't have a canteen with me."  
  
"Why not?" The ex-Maquis captain sure was inquisitive today. Tom resisted the insubordinate act of glaring at the man. He was hot, dehydrated, dizzy, had a headache that rivalled his worst hangovers and was irritable. He really didn't need this conversation right now.  
  
"I was in a rush to get to the transporter room on time and neglected to obtain one in the first place. May I beam back to the ship now Commander? I'm a little parched as I know you've guessed." Chakotay's frown finally broke into a mild look of annoyance.  
  
"Next time you neglect such necessary items, Lieutenant, I suggest you inform me and we'll have one beamed down. Understood?" Now it was Tom's turn to frown, because that wasn't exactly the harsh reprimand he'd been expecting. "Now, beam back to the ship, and get a drink."  
  
"Yes sir." Chakotay then turned and headed towards Bristow's location, Tom watching him intently until the man disappeared around some trees. When he was gone Tom rolled his eyes towards the sky and made sure the units were in the right spot for transport. It seemed Chakotay was still trying to open up some kind of comradeship with him, and it wasn't that Tom would have normally been abject to seeing whether a friendship could be forged between them, but he knew the only reason Chakotay was making any effort was because he'd seen the burnt tattoo on his back. Tom was not going to accept anything, friendship or other, in these regards. Pity friends, or idealized friends were not something he appreciated. And right now that was what Chakotay was coming across as: he wanted to get to know Tom because of his possibly revealed past, not because of the man himself.  
  
Frustrated and annoyed beyond his norm Tom slapped the commbadge and demanded a beam out. The ensign in the transporter room didn't look too happy with his curt nod hello and brisk exit. He didn't care. He immediately stormed to his room where he stripped on his way to the replicator.  
  
"Computer, decrease temperature 10 degrees." He stopped at the replicator. "Two large glasses of water." They materialized side by side and he picked up one and chugged it ten seconds. He leaned his empty hand on the wall and took several deep gulps of air, steadying his vision, he replaced the first glass and picked up the other. He put it on the coffee table as he stormed by to his room where he slowly dressed into a pair of sweat pants. Foregoing a shirt he headed to the bathroom where he wiped down his neck, chest and arms with a cold, wet cloth. After re-soaking the cloth he went back into his living room and collapsed on his couch, taking his glass of water and draping the cool cloth over his forehead he closed his eyes.  
  
He could feel his first glass of water swishing in his stomach every move and thought he just might throw it up. It was stupid to drink it all at once, but frankly Scarlet, he didn't give a damn. The second glass he sipped very slowly, and occasionally poured a bit to pool on his moulded stomach, and he played with it with his fingers. It was scary how fast his skin sucked the water into it. The pounding in his head was slowly beginning to dissipate when the chine of his door rang. He groaned but didn't move.  
  
He'd forgotten that Harry had told him he'd stop by around six to grab dinner. He really didn't feel up to it, and frankly he probably wouldn't until the next day. He knew how long it would take for him to get his appetite back after dehydration and overheating. Now, should he go throw on a shirt and get up or just stay there like the sick man he was. He opted to stay there. If there was anyone to see him in misery it was Harry, besides, the kid was a good nursemaid on that one occasion when the doc had demanded he'd needed one. The man hadn't even hesitated to volunteer his evening off to watch Tom puke in a toilet and he'd always had a towel ready. He was possibly the best friend Tom had ever had.actually, he was certain of it. The chime rang again, reminding him that he actually had to let the kid in before he could see him. He quietly called out to the computer to allow access and waited with eyes closed for his friend to enter  
  
He heard the door slide open and shut, and then there were footsteps that were heavier than Harry's entering the room. Immediately Tom swung his feet off the couch and sat up, almost ready to face whomever it was that was now in his quarters. However in the process he forgot about the glass balancing on his stomach and it fell, hitting the ground with a thick breaking sound. 'Shit.' He looked up and glared, only to find Chakotay staring at him with worry.  
  
"Commander! I wasn't expecting you. Sorry about the mess." Tom was annoyed with his sluggish movements as the Commander approached slowly, almost cautiously. He went to place his feet down but the Commander stopped him mid-movement.  
  
"Tom stay there! Put your feet up on the couch, I don't want you to cut them on the glass." Tom hesitated a moment before complying. He didn't want to bleed all over his floor. He watched in amazement as the Commander bent down and picked up the largest pieces of glass before Tom realized what he was actually doing.  
  
"Commander, I can clean up my own mess. Is there something you wanted?" He felt awkward, sitting in the presence of a superior officer so he stood on the couch and stepped over its back, placing his feet solidly on the floor. He grabbed the back to stop from swaying as a sudden light- headedness over took him. Chakotay placed the shards of glass in his hands on the table and stood as well, looking at him. Tom was suddenly tense, realizing his half state of undress.  
  
"I take it you weren't expecting it to be me at the door." The older man remarked and Tom's eyes narrowed.  
  
"Chakotay, this is the first time you've ever even stopped at my quarters doors. I think it's safe to say I am surprised at the visit." Was his snappy reply. Tom took a deep breath and tried composed himself, despite his rolling stomach.  
  
-()-  
  
The first thing Chakotay noticed as he entered the pilot's quarters was the man himself. He was lying half naked on his couch with a half full glass of water on his stomach and a wet cloth over his brow. The man had seemed content to lie there and wait for him to approach until Chakotay had actually done so. Tom had sat up and knocked the glass to its fatal place on the floor before Chakotay had taken more than three steps. His speed was astounding, and it bothered Chakotay. But more so than the speed was the look of defensive anger in the mans eyes, until he'd noticed who it was. The anger had disappeared before Chakotay could blink and he ordered Tom to not move as he went to stand on the ground scattered with glass shards. Chakotay, not knowing what else to do, went to pick up the glass. He not been expecting the scene he received when he entered. Tom had pretty much told him to not pick up the glass and the pilot had stood and climbed over the back of his couch to stand on the floor behind. The action was made slightly awkward as the man made an effort to face Chakotay at all times, no doubt trying to hide his back. Chakotay said the first thing he could think of, and Tom's blatant reply hadn't done anything to ease the tension in the room.  
  
"Do you always react to Harry's entrance like you just did?" He asked, curious.  
  
"Of course not. You startled me, I wasn't expecting anyone else to stop by."  
  
"And that's why you reacted so violently?"  
  
"Commander, I'm sorry but is there a purpose, other than small talk, to your presence?"  
  
"Actually I was coming by to see how you were. You didn't look to good on the planet, and frankly you look worse now." Tom blinked in annoyance and for the first time since he could remember Chakotay wondered if Tom ever looked at him with any look other than surprise, annoyance or smugness. He couldn't recall.  
  
"Thanks for your concern, but I'm fine. Anything else?" He swayed ever so slightly on his feet.  
  
"I don't believe you. I think we should get you to the doctor."  
  
"Commander, if I thought I needed to put up with some probing, scanning and sarcastic comments I would have headed there immediately. I'm fine." This time his sway was obvious and he paled slightly. "Excuse me, you know where the door is Commander." The dismissal was almost choked out, as the pilot seemed to be fighting to hold onto his composure. Chakotay didn't move. Tom did. He paled a little more and then practically flew into the bathroom, where the sound of retching could be heard.  
  
Chakotay followed him into his bedroom and then paused in the open doorway to the bathroom, seeing the younger man draped over his toilet breathing heavily, his face pale.  
  
"You okay Paris?"  
  
"Peachy." He croaked. "I thought I asked you to leave."  
  
"I decided not to."  
  
"Oh. Okay. You can leave now then." Tom wasn't looking at him, his well- defined back muscles occasionally flexing impressively, and the bubbled scar at the centre of his back was noticeable more than ever. Chakotay couldn't help but stare as he reached to grab a hand towel from its rack on the wall and pass it to the pilot, who took it with quite thanks. He didn't move away from the toilet yet though, seeming content to be in its close proximity. Chakotay then remembered that Tom had said something and a reply needed to be made.  
  
"I think I'll hang around a bit."  
  
"Chakotay, no offence, but I don't need you to watch over me. I've had years of practice in taking care of myself, I think I can handle a little heat stroke." Chakotay shrugged and moved behind Tom to sit on the bathtubs rim. One of the fortunes of being on the senior staff was the extra room space and bathtub. It seemed to come in handy this situation.  
  
"Perhaps its time you let somebody help then." He offered, his eyes drawn back to the scar, so much like a tattoo, though Chakotay was sure it could only be made through intense heat. There was a stretch of silence before Tom moved to twist his back against the wall, between the toilet and the tub.  
  
"Did you get a good look?" He asked flatly, and Chakotay suddenly felt bad for forcefully invading what was obviously very private to the man before him. However years of dealing with hardships and leadership he was not one to back down from confrontation.  
  
"How long have you had it?"  
  
"Chakotay, I honestly can't figure you out right now. What do you want? Do you get some sort of pleasure from seeing me sick like this? Because I don't know why you're here." Tom's face was carefully composed; Chakotay was becoming more familiar with this look than he had ever been in the previous year on Voyager. Now that he actually watched the pilot he was dismayed at how often he noticed this look of annoyed disassociation. The practiced mask that had fooled him into thinking the man was shallow and self-absorbed, was used so often and in so many different situations Chakotay no longer knew what to take at face value from him, he no longer knew what to believe, and that threw him off balance more than any other thing a person could do.  
  
"I'm here because I was worried about you, and now that it appears I have reason to be worried I'm going to make sure you're okay."  
  
"Yeah, well Harry will be by soon so you don't have to stay."  
  
"When he comes I'll be happy to leave." They sat in silence and Chakotay finally stood and headed out of the bathroom. He could practically feel Tom's relief at his departure, and he saw the man visibly tense again when he re-entered the bathroom and handed him a glass of water.  
  
"Thanks." He mumbled and rinsed his mouth, spitting into the toilet before taking a small sip and swallowing.  
  
"So," Chakotay tried again, "you going to answer my question?"  
  
"Why do you want to know? What does it matter?"  
  
"It matters, because it appears that I really don't know anything about you."  
  
"I've told you that many times Chakotay. Isn't it funny how it usually takes something like the proof of torture for someone to want to get to know you?" Chakotay looked hard at the man and Tom didn't even bat an eyelash in discomfort.  
  
"Perhaps it takes a little truth before someone is willing to make the effort."  
  
"Perhaps, but Harry never had to look for a reason to make the extra effort. Captain Janeway has always shown a little faith, Kes appears to think I'm a wonderful person and she knows less about me than anyone. You know what they saw Chakotay? They saw lies, and that made them care enough to get to know me." The blue in Tom's eyes seemed to flash before settling back into a dull, un-insightful shade. Chakotay frowned and they again fell into silence.  
  
He though about what the sick man, slowly sipping on water, had just said to him. See through the lies to see the truth. Chakotay had never really thought about that before. All his life he'd been raised to tell the truth, to have the truth told in point blank. Honesty was a virtue that was always rewarded in the end, because lies meant you had something to hide. But he'd been brought up in such an honest environment that when he'd gone to the Academy, he hadn't been prepared for the amount of little lies that were tossed around as if it meant nothing. Every stretch of the truth or absolute denial of it had always bothered him.  
  
Now he was willing to think of it in another context, because he trusted the Captain, who he had just been reminded trusted Tom. He'd never been able to figure it out before. Now he wanted to really know why the man lied so much. Why did he hide the fact that he'd been at fault in his crash at Caldik prime? Why did he lie to the Maquis? Why did he lie about the Cardassian prison camp? Why was Chakotay finding it so difficult to believe that Tom could have actually been in the hands of those monsters? It was so difficult he didn't know what to feel. And Tom once again broke the silence. It was apparent that he didn't like the stillness of the room.  
  
"Don't worry about the mark on my back Chakotay. It's nothing. Besides, if you actually think you know where it came from than you can forget it and go back to your original assumption that I put it there to once again fool the Maquis. My favourite past time, as you know."  
  
"There's a problem with that Tom." Chakotay replied, surprised that the blonde had used his name to address him, and even more than surprised that he knew what Chakotay's original opinions on the scar were. Tom was apparently much more perceptive than he had guessed. "I think you're lying." And Tom actually chuckled, leaning his head back against the wall, his eyes closed and Adam's apple bobbing slightly. Again they lapsed into silence, Chakotay not really knowing what to say. This was perhaps one of the most bizarre and awkward conversations he had ever had.  
  
"I got it shortly after I was cashiered out of Starfleet and pretty much forced off the planet. Apparently the Cardassian's thought an Admirals son would know a thing or two about command codes."  
  
"Does anyone know?"  
  
"Chakotay, besides you, Ayala, though I doubt he believes it, and Sandrine I think Harry is the only other person. And I haven't actually told him, he's just picked up my drunken rambling and self-pity moments." Tom made a little joke out of it and Chakotay frowned. Any presumptions he had about the scar being fake were now erased. Tom was trying to make him think it was fake, and now the utter truth of his self-mocking words were the only other proof he needed. And in that moment his whole opinion of the arrogant, cocky, pain in the ass Lieutenant changed. It was amazing how differently one looked at a man when he knew him for the first time.  
  
"I'm sorry Tom." And the blue eyes jumped open in anger, glaring at him. In honesty the look made him slightly nervous.  
  
"If I'd wanted pity than I would have made sure the entire galaxy knew of my past. If you ever say something along the lines of pity again I will hit you." Chakotay didn't doubt it.  
  
"It wasn't pity Tom. I'm apologizing for the way I've treated you. I've been blind, I failed where Harry succeeded. I promise I won't make that mistake again." He saw the eyes soften slightly but there was an unnerving sense of distrust between them. For the first time he knew what it felt like to have people not believe your words. It bothered him. Deeply.  
  
"Hey Tom? You in here?" Both of their eyes snapped to the door and Chakotay stood from his spot on the Tub as he heard Harry softly walking around in the other room.  
  
"I'm in here Harry, don't worry, I'm not naked. Well, almost not naked." The dark haired ensign appeared in the doorway and looked surprised to tee Chakotay. Immediately he stood at attention.  
  
"Commander." He saluted and then looked at his pale friend on the floor beside the toilet, looking back at him with a slight twinkle in his eyes that put a pause to his sick pallor. "What's going on here?"  
  
"I was just babysitting the Lieutenant until you came. Apparently he has a bit of heat stroke." Tom seemed content to watch Chakotay handle Harry, no doubt loving their awkward moment.  
  
"I see." Harry replied, recovering remarkably quickly. It seemed anything involving Tom didn't faze the young man for too long. "I'll walk you to the door Commander." Chakotay nodded at the invitation and turned once to look at Tom, but the man was avoiding his eyes now, like he was suddenly uncomfortable with his presence.  
  
"Get better Tom. If you need me to change the roster for tomorrow just let me know."  
  
"Thank you Sir." And Chakotay followed Harry out of the room. They walked through the bedroom and Chakotay noticed that there wasn't very much decoration at all. The living room had some, but none of it was too nice. It didn't seem to fit the pilot's personality either. A light hand on his arm stopped him before he could leave.  
  
"Commander. How did Tom get sick?"  
  
"He wore the wrong uniform and didn't have water while working on the surface. Make sure he gets lots to drink and a good rest." Harry frowned.  
  
"Permission to speak freely sir?"  
  
"Granted." This was interesting.  
  
"Tom is never ill prepared for any away mission unless there is some reason."  
  
"What kind of reason are you speaking of?"  
  
"Misinformation sir. It's happened a few times, usually when he's in a hurry and an individual on the team tells him what he needs to bring. He's never told me who does this but it usually results in him being sick." Harry ran a frustrated hand through this shaggy black hair.  
  
"Don't worry Harry. I'm perfectly aware what happened this time around. I don't think the individual who was at fault will be giving Tom any more miss-guided information. And those that I don't know about will soon get the idea that it's not to happen again." Harry's dark eyes met Chakotay's and he was pleased to see such caring for the man in the bathroom. Tom needed more people like Harry, it was unfortunate that Chakotay had never figured it out until now.  
  
"Thank you sir. Have a good night." Chakotay nodded and walked out the door and back into the well-lit corridor, only just noticing the temperature difference between the two rooms. He headed towards his office, thinking about everything he'd just learned when suddenly he stopped dead in his tracks and a small smile graced his lips before he continued on his way. He'd just remembered something that he thought was very important. Tom had accepted a drink from him. Maybe things would be okay in the end after all.  
  
-()-  
  
*Yeah, I guess you've figured out that I like confrontations that reveal personal things about Tom's past. I like more public confrontations as well, so we'll have to see what happens in future chapters! Hope you'll keep coming to read. 


	5. Reckoning 5

"Run away, but you can never hide, From the shadow, that's creeping up inside you. There's a magic running through your soul."  
  
  
  
"So." Harry said as Tom once again lay down on the couch, lacking a shirt and gripping a cool glass of water.  
  
"So." The lanky man answered, playing with Harry. The ensign rolled his eyes in mock annoyance. This was a game they always played when there was going to be a 'talk.' It served to ease both their tensions. Harry had already turned the room temperature back to normal and was now sitting with some juice in the chair opposite his best friend. The man he would do anything for, because he knew the loyalty would be, and was, returned. As it was now his friend looked tired. The slight tinge of green around his mouth had disappeared moments before, when Tom had finally felt safe to leave the toilet. The blonde man had claimed it was his condition that had made him throw up after Chakotay had left. Harry thought it was more personal than that.  
  
"That was odd, finding the Commander hanging out in your bathroom. Is their some kind of in-the-closet relationship between you two that I'm not aware of?"  
  
"If there was it would be more like an in-the-bathroom relationship." The pilot stated and took a sip of water. "He was checking up on me. It appears I didn't look to well leaving the planet's surface."  
  
"You know he's figured out the reason for that don't you?"  
  
"Kind of hard to miss isn't it?"  
  
"I mean he's aware of the fact that you were set up." And Tom sighed; this time the sound was far from relaxed and calm.  
  
"I know. What I'm worried about is what they're going to do now that they can't mess around with my away missions."  
  
"I'm not so sure they'll try anything. And I know they wouldn't if you just told the Captain."  
  
"Harry, you know I'm not a rat. Besides, if I did that I'd have to leave the ship for real next time." There was no humour in his voice and for a moment Harry's fears came to the surface. He was well aware of how difficult living on this ship was for Tom, even if he wasn't privy to all the details. He tried to help the man as much as he could but the truth was that as a green ensign, despite being on the senior staff, his opinions of the man had occasionally put him in the bad books of many a crewmember. Considering he only dealt with a tiny fraction of the hostility he only imagined what Tom had to put up with. What Harry was afraid of was the fact that Tom might one day make the decision that he really didn't want, or need, to put up with the crew anymore, and that he might leave permanently. If that happened Harry wasn't sure if he'd be staying on Voyager. He couldn't see himself living with people so closed minded that they'd drive off one of their best chances of getting home because of ancient angers.  
  
"Tom, I think there's some news travelling around the ship that you might want to know." Tired blue eyes, more weary than they deserved to be, looked at him and Harry felt even worse for being his friend's bearer of news.  
  
"Go on Harry, I'm not going to kill the messenger," And his right blue eye winked as if they shared a secret joke. Then again, most of their jokes were secret, because Tom wasn't one to share them with others.  
  
"Somebody saw your scar and let loose that you had one. They're still trying to figure out what it is, but I've seen some rough drawings on napkins as I passed tables and they're getting pretty close to the right design." Tom sighed and leaned back, a chuckle escaping his lips that told Harry how fed up the man was with gossip.  
  
"I knew it was only a matter of time. Ayala isn't one to spread gossip though, and I know it wasn't Chakotay. It must have been the other ensign, Sidor I think. Isn't it interesting how everybody's thoughts are always focused on a guy they don't like."  
  
"What I want to know is why a simple scar matters so much." Harry looked at him, trying to get the point across that he was trustworthy. Tom looked at him, noted the serious gaze, and a laugh full of good humour burst from his lips. Harry must have looked confused, a look he used a lot when around Tom, because the man ceased his laughter and focused on him with 'that' look. The look Harry associated with trust, sincerity and truth. To be quite honest he'd never seen the look directed at anyone but himself, and though it was rare when he did see it, it always sent shivers down his spine.  
  
"Harry, you know more about me than anyone on this ship. You've been my rock, one of the only reasons that I've hung around so long. I have, and will again, gladly place my life in your hands and lay my own down for you." Harry took a deep breath, and focused on not letting his eyes mist up at his best friends words. "The reason I've never said anything about what the scar really is, is because I didn't want your opinion of me to change," Harry opened his mouth to interrupt but Tom held up a hand, commanding silence. "I am also aware that you've known what the scar is for about a year now, and I therefore never felt the need to tell you the truth."  
  
"You knew I knew?"  
  
"I knew that you knew. And now you know that I know that you knew." Harry blinked and shook his head.  
  
"And you never told me because?"  
  
"I wanted to make you feel guilty about being nosey enough to look for secret information about your best friend."  
  
"It didn't work."  
  
"I know. You wouldn't be here if it did." And Harry nodded at the truth of the words. He'd never had a relationship with anybody like the one he had with Tom. They didn't do the soul sharing talks very much. They just understood each other in a way that words weren't always necessary. It was a friendship that Harry treasured so much because of these reasons. He liked to think of it as a soul mate type of friendship, if there was such a thing. But sometimes they did need to talk about things, verbally work through problems and be there for each other. He'd never found someone so willing to listen and help as Tom, and it saddened him to think that Tom was this way because he'd "been there, and done that" to pretty much everything Harry had had to go through on this trip. In a selfish way Harry was glad that Tom didn't share this side of himself with anyone, he was afraid he might get jealous of them.  
  
"Tell me something about it."  
  
"It was made by a cattle prod type of poker." The man also had an extremely twisted sense of humour. Harry just waited a minute before Tom rolled his eyes, flipped the cloth on his forehead over, and continued. "The Cardassian's use it to stake their claim on the prisoners. We didn't get clothes so it was easy to see. They also put one on your chest. The real reason for it though, was to mess with our minds and make us 'feel' like property. We were all in the same prison, and the prison was pretty damn remote, so identifying where you belonged was kind of ridiculous."  
  
"According to the database."  
  
"Which was classified the last I checked." Tom grinned and kept his eyes closed. Harry continued.  
  
"No one has ever been found with that marking alive."  
  
"It's true, I think. The reason I'm still here is through luck and my extreme talents for acting." Tom took a drink of his water, and Harry didn't stop him from talking about it. He wanted to know, he wanted to understand everything about Tom that he could. He wanted to learn from the man, and if Tom didn't want to tell him this, than he wouldn't. It was as straight forward as that.  
  
"You see, they grabbed me for two reasons: to get top Starfleet command codes, and to torture what they classified as Starfleet's finest. Sometimes I swear they're as stupid as they look. It took them about five weeks before they realised that I wasn't actually in Starfleet anymore, and had no idea of the codes. Although I think they figured that out after the first week, they just wanted someone to play with." His voice was hard now, cold and full of anger. Harry swallowed, images flashing through his head about what could have happened to Tom in the hands of the CianKa Adasta torturers.  
  
"They kept cutting me up and putting me back to together with their best tools. I let them believe that I was breaking under their hands and couldn't take much more of what they were doing to me. In all honesty at the time I wasn't sure if I wanted to live or die. Then about half way through they began bringing in other prisoners to help 'convince' me to give them the information they wanted." Now he took a steadying breath and swallowed heavily. Sipping from his water he considered how to word this and Harry wanted to just hold him, to try and physically comfort him from the pain, the anguish, that he could see the man felt at what he was about to say. "They killed those people in the worst possible ways, literally ripping them apart in front of me. The kids, I thought I was going to die from the will of not wanting to exist when they brought the kids in. A little Klingon girl and Vulcan boy.  
  
"These children, they looked at me, as if they'd been told that I was the only one who could save them and that I wasn't going to. And they understood. They had both, when they were brought in, looked at me and forgave me with their eyes for what they knew was coming. They knew I couldn't do anything! And I didn't do anything! I just watched. I didn't even protest, because I knew that protesting would just stretch the time they were forced to be alive in that room." Tom took a moment and reeled in his rage at their memories. Harry stared at the man with such horror and admiration that the two emotions warred with each other on his face.  
  
"So when they'd all been killed and I'd been burnt a little more, they took me back to the 'infirmary' and left me alone and unrestrained with the doctor, they all thought I was mentally incapacitated." He laughed. "You don't grow up in the Paris house to end life in the state of a mentally vacant shell. I killed that doctor, and the three guards I met on my way to the shuttle bay. The stupidest thing I ever thought about prisons is the fact that they always have shuttle bays, which are extremely convenient to escapees. I disabled their other shuttles with some nicely placed phaser fire and flew out of there with no resistance. That is how confident those bastards were. I touched down at the nearest possible, partially friendly, planet, sold the ship, gambled one hell of a lot more credits and began the week long trip back to earth at high warp. And that is the abbreviated story of the abduction of Paris." He saluted with his glass and sipped a little more. Harry was floored. He'd never heard anything as painful as that, and then to top it off with nonchalance. He wiped his eyes and saw Tom grin slightly in acceptance of his emotion. It wasn't a mocking grin, just the statement that he acknowledged Harry's reaction to the painful memory.  
  
"Thank you Tom." Was all he said. They sat and listened to quite music for the rest of the evening, Harry making sure Tom drank enough fluid to melt into a puddle, and Tom actually feeling slightly elated from telling his story to somebody other then Sandrine, and to have said someone not fall apart on him, or demand to talk through his feelings about the whole situation. The next morning he was feeling well enough to go back on shift, no doctor's note required.  
  
-()-  
  
One week later  
  
"Hey Starfleet." The ships dominating engineer said as she sat in the seat beside him and began to eat her stew without question.  
  
"Maquis. What brings you to the mess so early?"  
  
"Forced lunch break. I think Carey was threatening to lead my engineers on a mutiny if I didn't leave them alone. I suppose I'm a little testy today."  
  
"That wouldn't have anything to do with our current guests would it?" She gave him a pointed look and resumed eating. He grinned and took a drink of coffee, when one of said guests walked into the room and headed towards Neelix. Harry liked the five aliens travelling with them. They were called Widariats and they were a beautiful species. Their dress was familiar to Harry, a common suit of pants and moderately tight tunic. Each had a belt of a fine flat burgundy rope that had small twisted ropes winding through and around them. The colour of these ropes were the societies use of rank. The five beings travelling with them right now were all scientists, and apparently some of the top telepaths of their home world, though their entire society was generally telepathic. That was probably the general reason Torres's temper was a bit on the edge; she didn't trust people who could read her mind.  
  
Harry recognized the male as Tirzri'wa, though seeing as most of the crew, including the captain, had trouble pronouncing the click in the proper manner he had shortened his name to Tirzri. Tirzri's flaming orange feathered main rose in interest during his brief conversation with Neelix, and then he continued to search for a seat. When his eyes met Harry's the ensign made sure he looked welcoming. He liked these people. They were honest, forward and had a sense of playful humour that, apparently, had won them a place in Tom's good books. Tirzri practically floated towards his table, smiling at each member who greeted him until he sat across from Harry and Torres.  
  
"Thank you for welcoming me to share a meal, though I'm not sure I've ever consumed something of this.colour before." Torres snorted, despite her obvious unease.  
  
"This is one of the more edible looking dishes." She groused and Harry couldn't help but step in to defend the ships moral officer.  
  
"He tries hard, and there's only the occasional meal that actually doesn't wok out well.they mostly include a vegetable called Leola root."  
  
"Yes, Leola root. I tried some of that, it tasted like a crystallized syrup we have on our home world, very sweet usually, but this vegetable was lacking in sugar." He replied, spooning his meal into the mouth on his neck as he spoke through the one located where most humanoids were, on his face. Harry had become used to seeing the Widariats eating methods at the meal the night before, B'Elanna however, had been realigning the turbulent coils on the sub-plasma ejectors and she was now staring in interest as their companion ate. Harry elbowed her not so subtly, and she sat straighter in her seat. Tirzri looked at her and seemed to focus a moment.  
  
"B'Elanna Torres. Eating through places other than ones 'mouth' is quite common for species all over this quadrant. I'm surprised you've never come across one before.although you suspect the Duranians might have ingested food that way. Interesting." Harry saw her cheeks flame.  
  
"I didn't mean to offend you Tirzri-" "I know." He interrupted and she looked worried a moment.  
  
"How would you know? Were you reading my mind?" She demanded and Harry had to suppress a laugh at her worry. Tirzri pretended to be startled.  
  
"Why are you so worried? Do you have something to hide?"  
  
"Everyone has something to hide, and I'm not worried."  
  
"You're afraid that I'll pry where I don't belong, figure out why you are the way you are." He commented, still eating.  
  
"I just don't think you have the right to be prying at all! And as for the reason that I am the way I am." Her angry sentence trailed off as Tirzri grinned at her, flashing his perfect, bluish teeth. Then Harry could tell she focused on the sparkle in the beings eyes and she growled.and hit Harry on the arm.  
  
"Ow. What was that for?"  
  
"For not telling me he was leading me on."  
  
"I didn't have to tell you, you figured it out all by yourself."  
  
"You, Starfleet, have been hanging around a certain pilot too much."  
  
"Ah, this would be Tom Paris, correct?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"A fascinating man he is." Tirzri finished his meal and placed the dish aside, wiping his neck with a napkin.  
  
"Not the way I would describe him, but he has his moments I suppose."  
  
"That has got to be the nicest thing you've ever said about me." Tom's voice came from behind her and she turned to glare, then she looked back at Tirzri who once again had that glint in his eye. Jokers surrounded her.  
  
"Don't get used to it." She stood and picked up both her and Tirzri's dishes, said good-bye, and left the table.  
  
"She's a fireball that one." Tirzri commented as a grinning Tom sat next to Harry.  
  
"Just don't get in her way or she'll show you just how much fire she packs."  
  
"I see you have first hand knowledge on this subject." The feathered being commented and Tom chuckled at some old memories.  
  
"I deserved it both times."  
  
"Tom has a way with the ladies. Humans like to call it 'charm.'" Tom faked surprise at the comment.  
  
"Harry, I'm hurt that you would down play my skills in that area. Besides, I seem to recall you ending up on the floor by our engineer once as well."  
  
"Yes, but that was an accident."  
  
"If you say so Har." Tom looked at the line up for the food and sighed. "I'm going to go get some grub. I'll be back in a moment." He stood and in fewer steps than it would have taken Harry, he reached the end of the line.  
  
"If you don't mind me asking but, why was he weary of approaching the food? Certainly he's not that afraid of Neelix's cooking."  
  
"No, I think he's just.had a tiring day."  
  
"I see." Tirzri looked at the line and frowned as he noticed a quite conversation taking place between Tom and another character. Harry glared at the line but when Tirzri looked towards him he averted his eyes and took a drink of his water.  
  
"It seems there's more than just food selection taking place in this room."  
  
"Well, I don't know about anyone else but today's meal actually looks edible." Tom sat, delicately placing his tray down. His shoulders were slightly tensed but his features were completely normal. Harry instantly knew his friend was once again annoyed, but he obviously didn't want to complain about it in front of their guest. The pilot took a bite, and seemed satisfied, his mood improving instantly. His ability to get over things was incredibly fast. He looked at Tirzri.  
  
"So, Tirzri'wa," he pronounced the difficult name effortlessly, "Rinkin'an was saying that you're people typically live in tree houses. Have you always done this, or have you recently taken back to living in the trees?"  
  
"At one time my kind chose to live on the ground or in space, consuming more resources than we needed and slowly destroying out planet. Finally the Widarians realized they were killing their planet, and that in the end it went against everything we believed in. The forests were replanted naturally and protected by all, growing our planet back to full health. About five hundred years ago, when the trees became numerous and large enough to live in, we moved back into them, which was how we lived before we discovered space flight. You haven't seen the trees on Widar, which is a large planet compared to your earth. As I'm sure you've already partially compared us to your home planet's 'birds' due to our feathers, it is not an illogical place for my kind to dwell."  
  
"You know, for being on our ship for two days you have an amazing memory of earth and human culture."  
  
"Our advanced minds make it easy, and seeing as we require sleep only once every three of your days, I've had extra time to go through your data banks. Now, perhaps you can answer some questions about your home for me." and that's how the conversation went for the next half hour, until Tom returned to his shift. Through that time Harry was acutely aware of how interested in the Widariats society, and the people themselves, that Tom was. This last year Harry had become increasingly worried about every friendly society they came across, because they just might be kind enough to convince Tom to remain with them instead of on Voyager.  
  
"Do not worry Harry, while I'm not reading your mind I can sense your trouble. Everything that bothers you should work out well in the end. You have a long journey to make things right." Tirzri then stood and went to meet with the Captain and his fellow companions. Harry sat glumly for a moment and mulled over the comment. While he respected Tirzri, he wasn't so sure that Voyager had as long as they needed to make things right with Tom. A slow sense of dread began to settle in the pit of his stomach, but he ignored it as best he could and went on with his day. The Widariats would be gone in two weeks and the threat of their society towards seducing Tom would be gone.  
  
-()-  
  
".but you can't have it all. Whatever you do I'll be two steps behind you. Wherever you go I'll be there to remind you, That it only takes a minute of your precious time, To turn around, I'll be two steps behind." -Def Leppard  
  
Note: All of your reviews have been so encouraging! Thank you! Now I'm worried I won't be able to end this story right, but I suppose when the time comes you'll let me know. ( To answer Tabby's questions (sort of) there will be a public confrontation.however I haven't yet decided how or when or whether it will be public at all... However, the fact that you all seem to enjoy them as much as I do is encouraging! Please keep your eyes out for more! 


	6. Reckoning 6

Notes:  I am so sorry it took so long to get out!  Life's been hectic! (it never ends ;)  I hope this chapter satisfies you!  Thank you for reading this story and also for taking the time to review!  Also, I apologize for the big spaces between the paragraphs; I keep forgetting that I don't need to space between them.

**Chapter 6**

"When you're close to tears remember, someday, it'll all be over.  One day we're going to go to far." –Lighthouse family  "high"  (slightly modified lyrics)

-()-

Sometimes he woke up to a scream, and he was disoriented, wondering who it was being tortured at that moment, until he realized that he was actually in his Lieutenants quarters aboard Voyager.  Then he would lie back in his sweaty bed sheets and stare at the dark ceiling, afraid to check the time for fear of how soon he'd have to get up.  He didn't remember what it was that had him screaming into consciousness.  He didn't have these nightmares very often, but when he did he would usually remain where he was, lying awake in his bed, for the rest of the morning, until duty could take his mind off of it.

He was usually able to sleep all night, no pictures of past events plaguing his self-admittedly abused mind.  The last three nights however, the nightmares had been relentlessly attacking him.  He didn't know what to think, but if it didn't let up in two nights than he might ask for a sleeping aid…maybe.

What he did know was what the dreams had probably been about, and it sure as hell wasn't Caldick prime, his childhood, or prison.  It was about pleading men and women of different species brought together for one singular purpose: for pain.  A tortured end to lives that had meant something.  He envied them sometimes.  He envied them not having to deal with their memories of what happened.  He envied them because if they had lived, they would have been deemed hero's, survivors, warrior's, strong individuals that would had been loved, helped, cherished…people that would have meant something to everyone else around them.  But they hadn't survived, he had.  Sometimes that was torture in it's self, but usually it was his reason to keep going. 

Sighing he called out to check the time.  Two hours and twenty-seven minutes until his shift started.  He wiped a hand across his face and sat up slowly, tiredly swinging his legs over the edge of his bed and standing.  He moved to the closet and brought out the Magtaur toy, carrying it into the living room with him.  He sat it on the coffee table where it seemed to watch him and, for a few minutes, he stared back into its yellow eyes.  Then, in the presence of the people he'd never met but had such a profound effect on his life, he pulled out a sketchbook and began sketching pictures from memory.  An hour and a half later a Vulcan child's charcoaled eyes stared back at him, his face identifiable, depending if Tom's memory of him was correct.  The smudged image was shut away in the book, along with the rest of them.  Tom bent over, slipping the black leather cover into its home, which was a slit he'd made in the centre of the underside of his couch.  Hidden, like himself.

-()-

The mess hall was cheery, and at the same time tired.  Many people had been complaining of having recurring nightmares the past few nights and had therefore not gotten enough sleep.  The Doctor had taken a look at the few that had gone to see him and declared them fit in every sense.  Still the tiredness seemed to be having an affect.  Chakotay would have a talk with the Doctor later to see if there was anything that could be done about it, but he suspected it was just the stress catching up to them now that they had a moment to breath.  It was normal for this crew, living in the difficult conditions they were forced into.

Sitting with B'Elanna he quietly ate his meal, watching his crew casually.  The nice thing about being with the half Klingon this early in the morning was that he never felt the need to talk and could enjoy the moments of just eating and not worrying about making conversation.  They knew each other too well, and he knew that she didn't like the idea of communicating this early in the morning.  She was too busy trying to sort out her schedule before she went to engineering.  He smiled and she looked up, seeming to read his mind and returned a knowing grin, before ducking back into her padd and breakfast.

The assembly line, which consisted of hungry officers, was close to his seat and he noticed that Tom Paris was selectively filling his plate with…toast it looked like.  Tirzri'wa was beside him, although he was selecting a rather large amount of fruit to go with his tea.  And Chakotay would like to think that he wasn't eavesdropping on the conversation between the two, but seeing as they were so close and he could hear every word they said it was difficult not to pick up on the polite conversation.

"Eugene." Tirzri'wa greeted Tom and Chakotay could tell he was pleased by the annoyance that flittered across Tom's face.  

"Warig" was the reply and Tirzri'wa laughed.

"I see you have been talking to my friends about me.  Interesting that you should ask questions such as the part of my name which annoys me so." The feathered man grinned.

"I feel its necessary to know things about your company.  But if you don't call me Eugene I won't call you Warig.  At least not in public."

"Fair enough pilot.  You had no nightmares last night I trust?" Chakotay noticed Tom's hand pause for a moment while buttering his bread. 

"Why would you think I had nightmares?"

"I simply ask because I have heard complaints from several of your crew members.  I was hoping you feel as awake as you look."

"What can I say, I'm a good morning person."

"You are a good person at any time of the day I think.  Would you care to join me at our table?"  Tom had readily agreed and followed the man back to his seat, where Tag/niek, Tel'ram and Sirn'kwa were also sat.  Chakotay watched the pilot follow; he glanced at Sam Wildeman as he passed her and Joe Carey, both of who smiled in greeting before turning back to their conversation.  Other than that no one else paid attention to the tall man, as usual.  Chakotay sighed quietly, but B'Elanna's sensitive ears heard him.

"What's bothering you today?"

"I'm alright."

"Sure you are.  Chakotay, don't take this the wrong way but you've been acting kind of odd lately."  He looked at her and raised his eyebrows slightly.

"I have?"

"Yes, and if I'm correct it has something to do with our loud mouthed Pig."

"Why would you think that?" She looked at him carefully a moment and he allowed her to scrutinize, thankful that he had someone like her to notice when something was bothering him.

"It has to do with that tattoo he has doesn't it?"  He looked at her sharply.

"What tattoo are you talking about?"  He asked, or more like demanded.  B'Elanna, who was about to fork a load of food into her mouth paused, and put the utensil back on the table.

"Chakotay, I know you know he has a tattoo, it's all over the ship.  Do you know what it is?"

"How'd you find out about it?" He asked, not answering her question.

"Some fleet ensign mentioned it when Dalby asked him what had gone on in the gym the other week.  He just said something about a tattoo that, apparently, meant something important to you and Ayala."

"Do you know what it is?"  He interrogated her, and her eyes narrowed in warning at his tone.  She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, as if she were coming to a conclusion herself.  Finally she leaned forward and spoke quietly.

"We had the ensign give us a sketch of what he could remember.  It was rough, and didn't mean much at first, but Dalby worked on it and it began to look familiar.  Actually, it looked a lot like the mark of CianKa Adasta, but we still can't really figure out what it is.  Do you know?" She watched him intently and he only stared back at her for a moment, trying to figure out if he should tell her the truth, or skip over it like it didn't matter.  The problem was that it did matter, but he didn't have the right to say anything about it.  However, through his contemplation B'Elanna had come to her own conclusion.

"My god, it's true." She stared at him with intense brown eyes.  "It is from CianKa Adasta." A burst of loud laughter rang clear through the mess hall and Chakotay turned his gaze away from B'Elanna's to the table occupied by their current subject.  Tom's blue eyes seemed to glitter with amusement from that distance and he gripped Tirzri'wa's shoulder in the Widariats custom of acknowledgment.  It was so easy to see the friendship that had apparently blossomed between Tom and Voyager's guests.  The feather headed beings had been appearing to make an effort to have Tom spend time with them, and Tom was not showing any signs of discomfort with the friendly attention.  _It must be quite a change_, he thought as he was pulled back into conversation with Torres.

"Chakotay, I know you are aware of this but I thought I want to point out that nobody" and she accented the nobody "has ever been seen alive with that scarring.  So, what I want to know is if it's true, because frankly, Tom Paris does not look like someone who survived from a POW camp, let alone that one." Another laugh was heard from the group but B'Elanna did not allow him to break eye contact, but her glare deepened slightly.

Now he truly didn't know how to feel.  Every day since he'd seen the marking on the pilot's back he'd been unsure of what to believe.  Ever since their talk in the mans bathroom Chakotay had become dead certain that Tom Paris would never fake something that meant so much pain.  Now, with B'Elanna blatantly stating that she didn't believe it was authentic made him want to spit the truth at her, how dare she question Tom's courage, his honour!  And in his moment of silent rage at the accusation that Tom Paris was indeed the lying bastard he'd always come across as, Chakotay felt shame.  He'd reacted the same way, and it had taken a lot more convincing than it should have to believe the man was a genuine human being that hid so much about himself.  Chakotay and the rest of this crew really knew nothing about him, and they'd never even tried to be his friend.

Chakotay's gaze drifted to the table where his blonde mystery sat, surrounded by people that had held no judgement.  And they were telepathic, they couldn't be wrong about his character.   He watched and he noticed how relaxed Tom appeared around his friends.  Friends he'd attained after only being around them for five days.  Chakotay had never seen him genuinely smile so much in public, except when he was around Harry.

"So you believe it." He looked back at her, unable to read her own feelings about the situation.

"I believe him B'Elanna." She nodded and leaned back, once again attacking her meal.  Tom got up and went to recycle his dishes.  Chakotay checked his wrist chronometer; Tom still had ten minutes left until he had to report to the bridge, he was leaving rather early.  As the man placed his dishes in the designated area two officers, one ex-maquis, one Starfleet, approached him at the same time.  They stopped him, speaking quietly.  Tom's pale face flushed a light shade of red and his eyes flashed angrily.  For a moment he looked ready to kill, but the look slipped back behind an icy gaze and he said something back to the two men.  They turned and walked away, but they looked smug.  Tom left the mess hall with a straight back that spoke of his irritation.  Chakotay had been noticing quite a few little scenes like that one, but he didn't know what to do about them. 

2 days later

The crew was typically grumpy after several nights of interrupted sleep.  Last night even Chakotay had had a nightmare, and when he'd first awoken he'd been terrified of his surroundings.  He couldn't explain the images, the few that he remembered were too disjointed to understand.  There were two blurred faces, the glimpse of a Starfleet uniform on a grown man as he'd quietly closed a door and locked it, and blood.  Everywhere was dripping with the thick red liquid of human life but it had no path to follow, the gore and splatter simply was.  Like a stain.  

Chakotay had spoken with the captain, and she informed him that Tom and the Doctor were in sickbay, interviewing off duty individuals as to the contents of the dreams.  Their reports so far had stated that all the nightmares were exactly the same.  Chakotay asked her if she thought the Widariats might have anything to do with it and she'd nodded, answering in even quieter tones that she didn't think it was purposefully done, but they must be projecting the nightmare to the crew as they picked it up in their sleep.  At least, that was her theory, and she was a very intelligent woman.  Chakotay had requested to aid in the search for the nightmares source and at her approving nod he'd headed off to sickbay.

On his way there he passed two crewmen, the same that had bothered Tom in the mess hall only two hours before.  They were walking with their heads tall and alert, and as he approached them they nodded in respectful greeting.  He noticed that Cornick was carrying what looked like a stuffed toy, it was dressed in an odd assortment of patched cloth, jewellery, and a braid of hair.  Odd, but he didn't comment.  He often saw crewmembers carrying around personal things in their off duty time.  Last week ensign Porter had been carrying a javelin to the holodeck, the week before had been Tom Paris with what appeared to look like a bat'leth, although he'd been tucking the weapon close to his leg to not appear threatening with it.  Seeing as this Starfleet ship was their home, certain protocols, such as carrying personal items through the corridors, had become lax. 

Chakotay stepped through the door of sickbay to be met with a tense atmosphere.  The holodoctor was scanning ensign Wildman, who sat holding her two-year-old Naomi on a biobed.  She looked tired, which was to be expected he supposed, if she had to deal with these current nightmares as well as a child during the night.  Upon his entrance she had looked up and smiled kindly, alerting the doctor to his presence.  The holograph closed his scanner and turned to face Chakotay.

"I see you have been having troubles sleeping as well." He stated grumpily.  Chakotay noticed ensigns Barnaine and Assink sitting in chairs to the side, waiting their turn to be scanned.  Their stony faces told Chakotay that it was them that were causing the strained atmosphere.

"Only last night Doctor.  I came to offer my assistance in the search for the cause of these nightmares." He looked around the otherwise empty sickbay.  "I was under the impression that Lieutenant Paris was aiding you."

"He was." Snuffed the doctor.  "And so was Kes, until those two came in and refused to let him look at them while I was scanning Samantha.  He and Kes are in the back room going over the scans while I deal with this bunch."

"I see." Chakotay looked at the seated officers who squirmed under his glare.  It was their right to turn down aid from an individual if they chose, but their attitudes, as well as the attitudes of the rest of this ship, were beginning to grate on Chakotay's nerves, and he wasn't even the recipient of their hostility.  After he made his displeasure obviously known in a long and pointed glare he informed the doctor that he would go and see if he could aid the lieutenant and Kes.  He didn't want to deal with the ensigns right now. 

He walked purposefully to the back lab and entered through the open door, instantly spotting Tom and Kes at the side of the room huddled over tricorder readings.  It was actually quite cute to see them next to each other, Tom being so tall and Kes having the petite build.

"Hello Commander."  Tom greeted, never looking up from his Tricorder. Kes looked up and smiled kindly at him.

"Come to give us a hand Commander?" She asked politely, although she already seemed to know the answer. Chakotay nodded and frowned slightly at Tom; how had the man known it was him?  Finally the pilot's blonde eyes looked up, and they seemed just as tired as everyone else onboard the ship.  There was something in his gaze though, that caught Chakotay's attention, his blue eyes seemed to be weighted down, as if they portrayed the invisible burden this man carried on his shoulders.  And then, as easy as snapping your fingers, the eyes emotion shifted and twinkled in slight amusement.

"Your footsteps." Tom said as he looked back at the tricorder and frowned slightly.  Chakotay blinked and tried to understand the comment that seemed to come out of left field.

"What was that Lieutenant?"  Tom looked distracted as he answered, his gaze briefly shifting to acknowledge Chakotay's question as he read the screens information. 

"Your footsteps, that's how I knew it was you that entered the lab.  After two years of listening to you on the bridge I'm pretty aware of the sound of your walk." He looked up and grinned, slightly cocky.  "I also know the steps of the rest of the bridge crew.  I find it helps when you can't see what's behind you." 

"Maybe we should give you rear view mirrors." Chakotay said and was rewarded by a chuckle.  The Commander had always suspected that the pilot paid close attention to his surroundings inside the ship as well as outside when flying, he'd just never realized it was that well honed.  He was impressed.  "Any luck?" He asked, turning the subject back to the medical task at hand.  It was Kes who chose to answer.

"We haven't found anything conclusive yet.  These reports are from the cortical monitors that the Doctor had Ensign Simonion and Ensign Dalby wear last night as they slept.  Those two have been complaining about the nightmares since the first day."

"And there's no fluctuations in their wave patterns, which basically means that the problem is restricted to the precise moments that the crew is suffering from these dreams." Tom added.

"And the only possible answer we can come up with is displacement." Kes looked at the padd Paris held and reached forward pressing a button.

"Displacement meaning that the nightmare is being projected from its original source." Chakotay concluded.  He frowned.  "Do you think the Widariats have anything to do with this?  They are very powerful telepaths and I doubt it would be difficult to project the images into the crew's minds while they slept.  The problem is that I can't see them purposefully doing that." 

"Neither can I.  I've received nothing but positive emotions from them, and every time they've spoken to me about their abilities they express their respect for peoples privacy and do their best not to project anything." Kes added.

"The nightmares are obviously coming from somebody.  I wonder why nobodies come forward with the information about them yet.  You'd think they were aware that their nightmares were being transferred to others by now."  Kes met Chakotay's questioning look with a thoughtful one of her own.

"Commander, you experienced one of these nightmares last night correct?"

"Yes."

"How severe was it?"

"I thought it was pretty terrifying, but I can only remember small glimpses.  Things like blurred faces and a Starfleet Uniform.  And blood, lots of it."

"That was fairly mild compared to some of the things people say they see when they sleep.  Whoever is suffering from these nightmares must be dealing with them at a completely different level because the source is where all the memories are.  I don't think they want everyone to know that what they are seeing is a part of their past." She paused to glance at Tom as he put the padd on the counter and turned to face them, politely listening.  "This is very personal and deals with emotions on a deep level."

"How're you sleeping Tom?" Chakotay asked and the pilot shrugged as though the answer didn't really matter, though he suddenly seemed defensive.

"I'm well within working requirements sir." He replied, but before Chakotay could reply the younger man continued.  "I'll talk to Tirzri'wa and see if maybe they can figure out what's going on.  They're meditating on the holodeck right now and should be until dinner.  Today's the end of a five day religious holiday, something called the awakening which basically gives thanks for being telepathic."

"You seem very interested in these people Tom.  I don't think I've seen you not eat a meal with them when Harry's absent."  Tom shifted slightly on his feet and grinned at Kes, thinking of how to answer her comment.

"They've got a fascinating culture, and great personalities.  There's something appealing about how honest they are with each other, being telepathic."

"They've been good for you." Kes commented again and Tom shrugged.

"Yeah, well, friendly faces are hard to come by.  We've met too many hostiles in this quadrant, it's a nice change." He said and looked over to the door just as the Doc appeared.  Chakotay turned as well, but he had been all to aware of the fact that the alien species Voyager had been encountering were not the only hostiles Tom had to deal with.

"Any luck gentlemen?" The man asked he took the padd Tom handed him, however once the padd had been transferred he hadn't taken his gaze from Tom's Hand.  "Lieutenant, may I see your hand please?"

"It's just a bruise Doc, it'll be fine."

"I'm sure.  Let me see it." Tom rolled his eyes and held out his right arm, displaying the vivid purple and yellow bruise that covered the back of his hand and part of his wrist.  Chakotay winced in empathy, it must hurt.  "How did you manage this?" The doctor asked as he pulled out his always-present dermal regenerator and began to mend it.

"I smacked it off a piece of furniture." The pilot replied and took his hand back once it was fixed.

"I see.  I suppose your quarters were fully lit as well." The doctor sarcastically commented, and as he'd expected Tom took immediate offence.

"Actually, it was the middle of the night and pretty dark."

"And to think it only takes the simple annunciation of "lights" to change that.  Besides that though I would like you to go over Wildman's scans on the main counsel.  There isn't anything there, but maybe that's what we need to be looking at."

"Sure thing Doc." Tom took his leave to the main room and Kes sighed.

"Doctor, I don't know why you insist on baiting Tom like that.  It doesn't help either of your tempers."

"I'm a hologram, I don't have a temper." The balding man retorted.  "Besides, I just needed some information from him." 

"And you somehow managed to get it just now?" Chakotay said, not understanding the image at all.

"I'm sure you're aware that obtaining any information about Tom from the man himself is worse than pulling teeth from an alligator and requires much more finesse.  Fortunately I understand the man…somewhat." 

"So what did he tell you?" Chakotay urged, not sure why the doctor needed information about Tom.

"He told me that he was awake at midnight, which is approximately the time of last nights ship wide rude awakening."  The doctor seemed smugly pleased with himself.

"And…"

"And the Doctor feels that Tom has something to do with the nightmares." Kes helped him understand.

"I don't feel Kes, I know.  I also know Tom will never admit to it, so I simply have to figure it out without his help."

"Why don't you just ask him?" Chakotay wondered out loud.

"Obviously I've spent more time getting to know our chief pilot than you Commander, otherwise you'd understand that to outright ask Tom something like that would immediately have him double his efforts to hide it."

"Watch the tone Doctor." Chakotay warned, irritated.  He respected the hologram, but the man was damned arrogant at times.  "And I'm perfectly aware that Tom isn't very vocal about his problems…"

"You have no idea." The doctor muttered.

"…But I doubt he'd lie about it if approached."

"What a great idea, then the whole crew can know that their lack of sleep is his fault and have another ridiculous reason to dislike him."

"Gentlemen" Kes cut in, effectively blocking off Chakotay's automatic defence of the crew.  "Why don't we continue with a solution instead of making things worse." And Chakotay frowned, realizing how petty their actions had just been.

"Right, well, there's really nothing that you can help us with right now commander, except by speaking with the Widariats and seeing if they have a part to play in this mess.  However two or three more nights of this won't hurt the crew."

"Okay, then I'll see you two later.  If you do need my help I'll be on the bridge."

"Thank you Commander."  Kes smiled and he left, passing Tom on the way out.  They nodded briefly and he was in the corridor.  It seemed everyday he was being given a glimpse at a small paragraph that built the story of Tom.  He shook his head and started for the bridge.  It would be lunch soon and he wanted to get the next month's roster completed.

-()-

Tom's head ached, and he was sure that it was a mixture of little sleep and dehydration.  To top it off the Doctor seemed to have some theory about the crew's nightmare and Tom had no idea whether the hologram was heading in the right direction as to the nightmares source.  Tom knew he should tell the man about his own nightmares, but he was afraid that the information would spread among the crew and he'd have to deal with the extra hostility.

After two years of being the chief pilot of this ship he'd felt that he'd put up with the animosity very well.  He hadn't started any fights, he'd kept his emotions at bay, doing his best to be the model officer he knew he was capable of being…well, maybe not a 'model' officer, but a good one none the less.  Every time some crewmember pulled a 'joke,' every time their elbows met his gut in mess hall line up, when shoulders knocked into him in corridors, when glares of disgust hit him and a room silenced when he appeared, and words that cut deeply and made him so angry inside he just wanted to scream at all of them, but he didn't.  These people were his best option of living right now.

Sure he could easily find a place in some nice alien society, fly their ships for them (he had been offered a few times) and just forget about these people who seemed bent on making his life a living hell.  But there were people that held him back.  Harry, his best friend and usually his only real friend.  There was Janeway, he respected her. The Doctor, despite his attitude was always there for Tom. Tuvok, who'd never been anything but Vulcan, Neelix and Kes, the Wildmans and a few others who occasionally spoke to him.  But now, Tirzri'wa and the other Widariats, they had shown him that things didn't have to be so painful.  They'd been nothing but friends to him, and he couldn't understand why.  But it was making him question exactly why he stayed on onboard Voyager to have his life slowly beaten out of him.

Tom visibly shrugged himself out of his depressing thoughts.  He wasn't ready to leave Harry yet anyway.  He'd made a promise that he would keep his friend safe, and that meant sticking around.

His stomach grumbled in annoyance.  He'd had a big breakfast, but as usual his bottomless pit was demanding food by the time lunch rolled around.  The doctor had held him back looking at scans so no doubt the mess hall would be packed with people rushing to get a meal before their shift resumed.  He rounded a corner and went through the mess hall doors as they slid open on his approach.  His eyes automatically did a quick scan of the room, packed with laughing or silent individuals, but before he could finish his scan his eyes were drawn to the centre of the room.  He froze to the spot, his mind actually taking a moment to figure out exactly what he was looking at.

Hanging from the ceiling in the centre of the mess, was the Magtaur stuffed animal he had left on his table that morning.  Its neck was enveloped in a rough noose, it swung slightly from side to side, as if it had been hurriedly tossed up, its beady black eyes seemed to stare directly at him.  Tom swallowed, he felt his breaths coming deeply as he fought for control.  His face turned a shade of red that nobody on the crew of Voyager had seen on him yet.  Sitting below the symbol that meant so much, were a smugly smiling Cornick and Bathet, but their gazes seemed to battle with sudden wariness as Tom's eyes hones in on them.  His face was so livid that his orbs had turned almost black in anger. 

The mess hall had suddenly seemed to shut down, eyes focusing on Tom and for the first time that Tom could remember they didn't look at him with disgust; they looked at him in fear.  But his sights were only set on Cornick and Bathet, and he cursed them for desecrating, for mocking the people that had been killed so brutally Tom still cried at night about it.  Feeling each breath he took and exhaling it in such slow fury, Tom took a step towards his enemy, and felt his control snap.

END

…and everyone was killed in a mad fury and the ship crashed into the a nearby sun.

Kidding…kidding….maybe…I guess you'll have to wait and see.  Thanks again for all the wonderful comments!  Criticism of any kind is always welcome.


	7. 7

Note: your comments inspired me to hurry up and write. I hope this is adequate!

Warning: not beta read, at all. If there are big mistakes and you notice them than I will go through it when I have the time and fix it right up!

Chapter 7

It felt like the air itself had frozen when Tom had stilled in front of everyone staring in a kind of shock at the toy animal that, Harry had just noticed, had been strung to the ceiling. Cornick and Bathet were sitting beneath it grinning, so obviously it had been some kind of joke. But Tom…Harry was in line talking with Neelix when everyone seemed to suddenly freeze and look at him. And Harry had followed suit, gazing at his best friend, wondering what his connection with the animal was. Then Tom's face had turned such a deep shade of red that it might have been comical, but for the look of pure hate and anger that filled his eyes. Harry had taken a breath in shock; he'd never seen Tom direct his anger towards the crew, usually just swallowing his pride and ignoring his own feelings. The way he looked now, Harry knew it meant trouble.

Then, when Tom had taken one step towards the ensigns under the hanging toy, Harry had felt a sudden fear for their lives. The look in Tom's eyes said that mercy was the last thing on his mind. After one step time seemed to shift and Tom Paris, pilot extraordinaire, and one of the gentlest and most considerate people Harry had ever known, had crossed to the centre of the room so fast Harry could have sworn he'd teleported. The tall man grabbed both Cornick and Bathet by the front of their uniforms, lifted them with a strength that only deep fury could give a man, and slammed them, side-by-side, on top of the sturdy mess hall table they'd been leaning against. Harry finally snapped into action and ran across the room, not having the slightest clue what to do.

"Tom! Tom let them go!" The red faced pilot ignored Harry, his hands that were pinning the two men moved slowly towards their necks. Harry began to get frightened, he grabbed Tom's shoulder and pulled hard, trying to get him off them. Everyone else was still in too much shock at seeing Tom, the man who never fought back no matter what you did to him, so violently attacking the two men.

"Tom! Whatever they did, they didn't mean to make you this upset! Let them go!" He tried, and that got a reaction from the pilot as his hands stopped moving, but now he turned livid eyes on Harry.

"Didn't want to make me this upset! All these people ever do is try to make my life a living hell!"

"Tom please, you're not like this! You're better than this! Let them go!" Sanity seemed to be slowly returning to Tom's eyes as they began to shift from their alien navy blue to a lighter shade.

"I'm tired of this Harry. I'm tired of them!" He pressed his hands into the men's chests, making them grunt slightly. They had stopped squirming but were getting over their shock quickly. If Harry didn't get Tom to let them go, they were going to do it themselves.

"I know Tom. I know, but trust me when I say they are not worth it!" Harry glared at the two men lying on the table as Tom's fists slowly unclenched and released the cloth of their uniforms. Harry, and everyone else in the mess hall, breathed a sigh of relief and he put a hand of support on his friends shoulder. Tom looked visibly shaken but he was trying to pull himself back together. He glanced up at the swinging animal, and then glared back down at the men who were sitting up, Bathet was rubbing his chest. Neither one looked happy.

"What is going on here?" Chakotay's voice suddenly cut through the silence of the room as he pushed through the heavy crowd of bystanders and around a table.

"Paris is crazy Commander! He just tried to kill us!" Cornick exclaimed, glaring daggers at the pilot, whose eyes had turned back to their cold blue steel.

"I've once been on the receiving end of that fury, ensigns, and believe me if Paris had wanted to kill you I don't doubt that you would be dead. Now, I want to know what that toy is, why you two have and why it's on the ceiling of the mess hall." His voice remained calm, but his punctuation became more precise as he'd gone through his questions. For a second Harry was willing to buy the man his own star ship for wanting to look at the whole picture instead of immediately throwing Tom into the brig. And then his words set in and Harry looked incredulously at Tom, who, apparently, had once attacked the first officer. The silence that reined had Chakotay taking a breath, his only sign of frustration.

"Well?" He barked and Cornick jumped slightly.

"The toy belongs to me sir." Tom stated.

"Why did you two have it?" Chakotay turned his glare from Tom to the nervous ensigns who were looking anywhere but him.

"I'm not going to ask again ensigns." Cornick suddenly stood tall and stared hard over Chakotay's right shoulder.

"We acquired it from his quarters sir." There was a shifting throughout the mess and Harry noticed that Tom was standing straighter than Cornick.

"And you two had explicit permission to enter Lieutenant Paris's quarters from him or the Captain?"

"No sir."

"Breaking into and stealing from anybody aboard this ship is strictly prohibited, let alone a senior officer!" Bathet muttered something under his breath and Chakotay's sharp gaze darted to him. "What was that!"

"I said 'he shouldn't be a senior officer' sir." The man ground out, looking in disgust at Tom. Harry wanted to hit him, and his fist clenched at his side. This time it was Tom who gently placed a hand on his elbow as warning.

"Is that so ensign Bathet, because the way I see it, if he wasn't a senior officer and a member on board this ship we most likely wouldn't still be here! In the future you will hold any insubordinate opinions to yourself." Chakotay looked pointedly at both men, daring them to challenge him. Harry could sense the shock of several people in the room who hadn't expected the Commanders steadfast support of Tom. _Eat your hearts out_ he thought. The Commander turned to look at Tom and was about to question him when Janeway's urgent voice penetrated the room.

"All senior officers report to bridge." Chakotay instantly looked around the room.

"Ayala, see that Ensigns Cornick and Bathet are escorted to their rooms and a guard is placed on each door until I have a chance to deal with them." The sturdy man nodded and stepped forward. Chakotay turned and began heading for the mess exit and Tom was twisting around to follow when the ship rocked violently. The lights flashed and some sparks flew from the doors. In the process several crewmembers were knocked to the ground and Harry watched helplessly as Bathet stumbled and fell into Tom, who easily lost his precarious footing and fell hard to the floor, his head smacking on the corner of a table. After a second the lights came back and people began picking them selves up, Tom didn't move.

"Tom?" Harry dropped to his knees by his friend's side and checked for a pulse, just to be safe.

"Oh god, I didn't mean to push him! I swear!" Bathet frantically tried to explain his accident but they ignored him.

"He's out cold Commander." Harry reported and looked at Tom's pale face as the Commander slapped his commbadge.

"Medical emergency, beam Lieutenant Paris to sickbay." He ordered and waited. Nothing happened. "Chakotay to transporters?" Still nothing. "Chakotay to bridge?" No reply. Harry hurriedly repeated the Commanders actions with the same result. "Okay, we carry him to sickbay." Chakotay stooped over to grab an arm and Harry did the same. They stood, slightly bent over. Paris was far from a lightweight, and Harry knew it was the result of endless hours of taking out his frustration in the gym.

"Commander, the doors aren't responding sir." Samantha Wildman reported as she quickly moved to the control panel and hit some commands. Nothing happened.

"Let me try." Cornick stepped forward, and with practiced hands pulled the protective casing away from the panel. A thin cloud of blue smoke filtered out and dissipated, leaving the engineer frowning. "Everything is fused together sir. The only way out is either by transporters or cutting through the door." Chakotay cursed for a second and then signalled that they should lay Tom back down. They moved him by Neelix's counter and lay him down gently. The Talaxian suddenly appeared with a bunched up apron and some ice. Harry gently lifted Tom's head and Neelix placed the make shift pillow underneath it. Then he gently applied the pack of ice to Tom's injured temple.

"Thanks Neelix." He said and checked his best friends pulse again, worried. He looked up to see Chakotay giving orders, trying to find out if they could fix the door or communications. It didn't look good.

"I wonder what happened to cause this." Neelix stated out loud as Chakotay rejoined them.

"I'm guessing it had something to do with why we were called to the bridge. Any change?" He nodded to Paris's prone form.

"No. I don't understand, it must be some sort of anomaly because Voyagers systems don't simply fuse like that from a vessel attack."

"Unless it's from weapons we haven't encountered yet."

"They'd need a huge electrical carry surge to fuse the controls in the middle of the ship like this." Harry said as Ayala came over and joined them.

"How is he?"

"Unconscious but breathing. He'll live."

"I don't doubt that." The security officer heartily agreed, which was odd, because he'd never shown support for Paris's well being. "Final report sir," he now addressed the Commander, "is that we're stuck until engineering digs us out. Besides Paris and a sprained finger there are no other injury's." He waited for Chakotay's confirmation nod and then turned to look at Paris's pale face, a swelling and hints at a deep bruise beginning to form on the side of his head. Ayala frowned to himself, wanting to ask questions about what had happened moments before with this man, but refraining because he knew it wasn't his direct business.

He looked over at the hanging stuffed animal, which was apparently the cause of all this hostility. Whatever it was, it meant something to Paris, and it wasn't right for it to be hanging like a condemned display for every one to make their own opinions about. The way the men and women of the crew were looking at it and speaking to each other occasionally, was clear indication that it had been hanging up for far to long. He stood to bring it down and was a few steps away when he heard the fallen man groan.

()-

Captain Janeway calmly brushed a strand of hair from her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. There was blue smoke lightly floating to the ceiling of the bridge as the environmental systems worked on clearing it. She heard her chief engineer, Torres, growling from her bridge station only a few feet away. Ensign Talton manned Harry Kim's station at Ops, and he was currently wiping a trickle of blood from a cut he received during the attack.

"Report!" she demanded and instantly he was looking at his panels, assessing damages but stating their cause. He was an excellent officer, second in command of communications next to Harry Kim, though not yet quite as talented.

"The creature is leaving this area at a steady pace, no signs of it turning around." He wiped the blood from his forehead but didn't break contact with his counsel, randomly tapping controls to change the information. He looked up, relief clear in his eyes. "It's gone Captain. I've recalibrated the sensors to scan for any similar biological signs in our path. There are none currently."

Janeway nodded but refrained from breathing a sigh of relief. It wasn't very confident to display her fears in front of the people that depended on her leadership, her courage. Sometimes it was a difficult front to keep up, but she managed. She didn't have much of a choice.

"Lieutenant Torres. What's the damage?"

"That thing" she spit the word out with disgust "completely fried the relays on floors two through six. The good news is, that while the circuitry has fused together and become irreparable, it can be replaced, and we have ample materials to do so. The bad news is that it's going to take a while to get all of it working in top shape again. Main systems affected that will pose a big problem are the doors, turbo lift, communications, and joy of joy, the replicators. Everything else's back up systems has held. That creature packed one hell of a punch."

Janeway nodded in response, silently agreeing. The creature had been resting along Voyager's path and, true to form, Voyager had managed to clip it. She'd never seen anything quite like the animal before and, frankly, just its memory awed her. It had been about half the size of Voyager, its outer hull, flesh…whatever, had been so black that they couldn't see it without the aid of scanners. The problem being that the scanners hadn't interpreted the creature as a solid mass and had therefore not alerted them to its presence. It wide flat body ended with approximately five tentacle like appendages, and when Voyager hit it they snapped around its hull without second thought. Like a stingray, it reacted with pure instinct, and, like a stingray, it had quite the sting.

Each tentacle had several spines that must have been made out of adamantium, they were impossibly strong. They pierced small thin holes into Voyagers hull and then sent an electric shock so powerful it put the ship into momentary cardiac arrest. And then, satisfied that it was safe, it just fled. Now Voyager was in serious need of repairs and three of her senior officers had yet to report to the bridge.

"get immediate repair teams on the hull and fixing circuitry. What's the estimate time frame?"

"Altogether approximately two days. Separately it'll take about five hours each. Any requests?"

"Doors, communications, turbolift then transporters. Replicators can remain of line for a while. I'm sure Neelix will be able to cope."

"Captain, I believe there is a problem there." Tuvok stated, and she raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. "It appears that, as the doors are all fused shut, the mess hall would be one of them. I doubt that people can get in or out of there for a while." Well, now she knew why her three senior officers weren't present, they'd all been on lunch break.

"Is there anyway we can asses casualties?"

"I do not believe so."

"Ideas?"

"We could cut through the door?" Talton asked, again wiping at the cut that refused to stop bleeding. It didn't look too serious.

"I would advise against that Captain. The material they're made from is very strong, and while it'll only take three hours to cut a good hole into it, it'll be very difficult to replace it. It'd be a lot less hassle to just fix it." Torres cut in.

"The mess hall isn't the only place where people are stuck. What's the status of our shields?"

"one hundred percent captain." Talton replied immediately. They would be since they weren't on during the attack.

"Okay, initiate the shielding to protect the damaged hull areas. I want full teams getting the doors open. Ensign, see what you can do about communications. Lieutenant Commander, please assist with communications. Torres, assemble your teams. I want to know if anyone is injured, and I want this place back in order." They all nodded and immediately turned to their duties. She headed to the engineering station to see what she could help with. It wasn't as bad as it could be, especially since the creature chose to end its attack. But, as it went in the delta quadrant, if it wasn't one thing it was another.

()-

The groan was so brief that Gregor Ayala wasn't quite sure he'd heard it. It was like Paris had forced himself to stop moaning on command, though whether that was normal or whether he trained himself to do it was beyond Ayala's knowledge. Everything about this man seemed beyond his knowledge lately. He turned to look at Tom, who's body still looked relaxed and unconscious, maybe he was, maybe Ayala was hearing things. Harry was checking the man carefully, as though he were the most treasured person in the world, and, Ayala supposed that in Harry's eyes Tom probably was the most cherished thing in his world. They were best friends in a place where family no longer immediately existed. Close bonds were family out here.

He went to turn around again when he noticed Tom crack open his eyes, very carefully, and then close them again. The Commander and Harry obviously didn't notice, seeing as they were speaking with Neelix, eyes averted. Ayala watched carefully as Tom cracked his eyelids apart again, so slightly that it was almost unnoticeable at first. Then with more confidence the pilot carefully scanned his surroundings through the slit view. What was he doing? There was no emotion on his face, he simply remained so still, not a muscle flexed. Ayala had never understood the cocky blonde's actions, but this was a bit more than odd, it was almost suspicious. Ayala decided to go and force the man to wake up fully, and that's when Paris's gaze fell on him.

Instantly there was no more show, the blue eyes snapped open wide, they were so cold that the burly security officer felt a chill run down his spine. It was a threatening gaze that stared him down, he froze, and Tom decided to move. Quickly. For the second time since Ayala had known the man, he was shocked momentarily into immobility. For a person of Tom's height and strong build he moved extremely quickly, just like when Chakotay had grabbed his shoulder in the gym all those weeks before. And just like that time it was almost over before he really knew what was going on. Tom had sat up, knocked Harry away from him, and quickly backed up against the counter. He then reached up and grabbed six knives that were set out for cutting meat, and he flipped one into his right hand and the others held securely in his left. Then his eyes seemed to dilate and he leaned back to support himself, obvious affects of his head injury.

For the second time in the last half hour Harry was the first to recover and began to approach the injured Tom Paris.

"Stop right there." Each word was spit out with apparent effort, Tom's breaths seemed to be laboured, which shouldn't be an affect of the head injury.

"Tom? It's okay, it's just me, Harry."

"I don't know you. Don't move." The dark blonde ordered, his eyes suddenly focusing sharply, assessing everything in sight.

"Lieutenant, I want you to put down the knives." Chakotay said quietly, placing an arm on Harry's elbow as a warning to not fly towards his obviously dangerous friend. Tom stared at Chakotay a moment, taking in every feature before making sure nobody had moved, as he'd ordered. And Ayala knew damn well that nobody was moving. The room was once again so tense that a pin drop could be heard. Only Paris could pull this off twice in one hour. But the bigger concern right now, was the obviously distressed man, whose eyes were slowly beginning to smoulder with hatred again. Ayala didn't like the man sitting on the floor, he didn't know him, and he knew he was dangerous. Very dangerous.

"Tom please, put down the knives." Chakotay tried again, this time Tom laughed, a shallow bark that was almost painful to hear and was far from humorous.

"You creatures never give up do you?" He half yelled in frustration and anger.

"Tom? What-"

"Why don't you just finish this and kill me! I don't know anything! And your mind games haven't worked so far, and they're not going to work now, so just end this!" He hollered, yelling towards the ceiling, the walls, to anything but the multitude of people that stood staring at him, not knowing how to react. He was panting; his right hand gripped the knife tightly and relaxed in an odd rhythm, his knuckles blending from red to white and back to red.

Nothing happened, there was no response at all, from anyone. Ayala noticed that Harry had paled, did he know what was going on?

"Tom," the young Asian swallowed, carefully choosing his words. "Tom listen to me, wherever you think you are, you're not there." The laser blue eyes focused on him and you had to give the guy credit, because he didn't even bat an eyelash.

"Then perhaps you should tell me where I am." The words were low, and dangerous.

"You're on Voyager, a Federation Star ship under the Command of Captain Kathryn Janeway. We're lost in the Delta Quadrant, we're no where near where you think we are." Tom blinked once, wheezed slightly and seemed to begin favouring his stomach, his left arm curling over it protectively.

"Right, figures you'd pull one of the Admirals star students into this. Cruel and unusual punishment I suppose."

"Tom, we're not who you think we are."

"And who would I think you are?" Tom spoke as though it were a game, carefully planning his line of attack should anyone move. Ayala began planning how he should react should Tom decide to take further action.

"Please, trust me Tom. We're your friends." Ayala winced at the words, if only they were completely true.

"You, I could see as a friend. Them," Tom nodded in everyone else's direction and lowered his voice slightly, as though he was speaking of a conspiracy, "I don't think they like me too much. I can see it in their eyes." He leaned back, careful not to smack his head on his silver coloured support, his breath still laboured, he winced as he shifted slightly. What was wrong with him, you'd think he was severely injured from the way he was acting.

"They just need time Tom."

"It's Mr. Paris to you. I only let friends call me Tom. Huh, to bad I don't really have any...killed them all, as you know."

"Tom please, listen to me. You're a member of this crew, a Lieutenant, the chief pilot." Harry tried again. Ayala decided to test Paris's awareness through Harry's distraction and took a step forward. A knife was instantly sticking from the material back of the chair resting beside him, two inches from his leg. It was an immaculate throw.

"The next one is in your neck." Came the cool reply and Chakotay shot Gregor a warning glare, and he took the advice to not move again. Apparently everyone else did as well. Tom had five knives left, and he continued talking, as if to himself. "That's a nice story. To bad I screwed up my escape from this shithole, so me being here couldn't possibly be true. Why won't you just kill me!" He yelled at the air again. He was treating them like holograms, like they didn't exist.

"Tom please! You did escape Tom! You got out of there! You're the only one who ever got out of there! This isn't a lie Tom, just put down the knives."

"I've grown rather fond of them actually." He grumbled, and coughed. He wiped his right hand along his chin, as if he was removing a spilt drink. He completely ignored the pleas of rationality, lost in his own little universe.

"Tom, are you injured?" Chakotay's calm voice seemed to filter through the entire room, though it was directed at one person. Tom didn't respond, just looked at him with that anger, so much anger in his eyes.

"Do you need a doctor?"

"Not your doctor. I'd rather die than have him heal me just to go through this again. I'm not going to entertain you creatures any longer." And suddenly, like a light turning on Ayala realized exactly what Tom was talking about, was acting about. He believed he was still there, at Cianka Adasta. He thought they were Cardassians! And as Ayala realized this he saw Tom raise the blade to his neck.

()-

Note: I've decided I rather enjoy these cliffhangers. Terribly sorry 


	8. 8

NOTE: Oh My Goodness! I am so sorry I never finished this story! Jeeze, I hat it when people leave stories unfinished and now I've become one of them! AHHHH. It was quite a surprise to remember that I had a story in the works and I apologise profusely for forgetting it (and the plot I had originally planned for it). SO here is another bit and I will try and write more whenever I get the chance! Forgive me.

Chapter 8 

"…though my eyes could see I still was a blind man,

though my mind could think I still was a mad man.

I hear the voices when I'm dreaming…" -wayward son

"Tom no!" Harry yelled in panic as he and Chakotay both lunged forward to try and stop his best friend from pulling the glinting knife across his exposed neck. They had no chance of making it on time but as they reached him his eyes rolled back into his head and closed, the knife fell into his lap with loose fingers still lightly curled around the hilt.

"What happened?" Harry demanded, reaching again to check the mans pulse. It was there, and it was strong. He sighed in relief, his shoulders slumping. He pulled the deadly weapon from the pale grasp and handed it to Neelix, who was hovering at his shoulder.

"He passed out. It could be from his injury, it could have been from stress. We won't know until the Doctor has a chance to look him over." Chakotay replied, feeling Tom's forehead for signs of fever. The brightly dressed Talaxian bounced on the balls of his feet, staring anxiously at the pilot.

"Will he be all right?" He asked, as much for his own sake as for the knowledge of everyone else who was watching them anxiously. No doubt waiting for Tom to awaken and attack them again. He didn't understand them, they were wonderful people; loyal, hard working, friendly, but when it came to Tom they turned into cold, closed-minded individuals. It constantly tore at Neelix, to see all these wonderful people treat Tom so badly, and Tom never said anything. Didn't complain at all. Neelix was beginning to understand why Kes was so found of him, always singing his praises.

This had been close, too close. Neelix reached down and gripped Tom's hand briefly, reassuring himself that the man was still warm to the touch, still alive. Then he pulled back and collected all the knives on the counter to their side. It wouldn't do to let Tom become armed with the weapons again.

"Funny," he mumbled to himself as he stood back, "Tom never told me he was trained in the art of knife wielding."

"I don't think he told anyone." Ayala spoke up next to him, his eyes focused on the man that Chakotay and Harry were moving to lay down again. Neelix noted that the human was tense beside him, his hand tightly held a knife, the one he'd pulled from the chair next to his leg. He held it out and Neelix took it carefully, making sure not to accidentally cut the security officer. He hurried back behind his counter and deposited the utensils into his sink and then headed back to the main group. He noticed, in dismay, that all the officers in the room were crowded around, carefully watching the group around Tom, or more specifically Tom himself. What if Tom woke up again! They might scare him, or make him nervous. This just wouldn't do.

"Okay everybody, if you could all disperse please, I don't think Lieutenant Paris would appreciate an audience." They looked at him a moment, deciding if they should listen to him or not. He frowned and was about to tell them more firmly when they all suddenly scattered and went to watch the unfolding scene from a distance instead. The Talaxian nodded to himself, satisfied, and turned to see Ayala standing close to his back, a rather scary look on his face.

"You can stop glaring now Mr. Ayala, I think they've digested the order." He tried to ease the man's tension but could tell it didn't work. The glare was no longer for the crowd but for something else. Neelix looked back over his shoulder and noticed that the stuffed toy was still swinging back and forth.

"I'll be right back" Ayala growled and stalked toward the dangling animal. He quickly climbed onto the table it hung over and pulled at the rope around its neck. It came down from the ceiling easily, the tape not providing any resistance. He carefully removed the thin but strong rope from its neck and threw it at Bathet who stood close by. The ensign looked at his feet in either shame or fear of Ayala, Neelix wasn't sure which. He watched as Ayala walked back towards them, asserting himself as one of the few directly involved in this who situation. Well, Neelix wasn't about to be left out, so he joined the three men and Samantha Wildman at Tom's side. It was good that she was here, she had some medical training.

"Without the proper instruments I can't tell you why he passed out. He appears fine now, he's breathing easily, pulse is strong, no signs that he is going into shock or anything." Chakotay and Harry nodded in unison, and Neelix briefly wondered who was more in charge of the situation. Harry was pretty protective over his friend, he doubted any descision on their course of action would be approved unless he said so. People may think he was the shy, green ensign. But Neelix had been watching him for a while now, and knew without a doubt that, after hanging around Tom so much, he had developed a lack of patience for…what was their term? B.S? He was a strong young man.

"Here." Ayala handed the animal, which seemed to have been the cause of all the confrontations and problems within the last half hour, to Harry. "Do you know what it is?" He asked, crouching down to their level. Neelix copied the action, it seemed that they didn't want to tower over their fallen comrade, choosing to remain close to his level should he wake up.

"It's a Magtuar, I think. A stuffed klingon animal toy for children." Chakotay answered.

"So, why does he have one?" Well, the security officer certainly was inquisitive wasn't he?

"I don't know, but it's obviously important." Harry hadn't put the animal down yet, he was looking at it carefully, noting all the little nic-nacs attached to it. He frowned slightly. "This looks like real hair." He held up a braided strand.

"It is." Ayala stated. "It's also got a Bajoran ear ring, and the Alarian shield of adulthood. These aren't things that people part from easily."

"Commander, I think he's waking up." They watched him with a mixture of anxiousness and weariness. Chakotay and Ayala feared that Tom, not having knives anymore, would just try to break their bones in defence. The pilot's breathing, while quite, was turning slightly haggard. Then his eyes split open, and his gaze flashed in fear and pain as he glared at them. And then recognition hit, and Neelix didn't even notice the second the emotion in his eyes was locked away behind the cool, self-deprecation that was so familiar. Neelix had seen many things, but the ability to lock away so much emotion within less than a heartbeat…it shocked him, and it appalled him. To think a man, his friend, hid that much emotion so easily, without even thinking! It was sad. The chef noticed everyone pause a moment as they tried to understand the drastic change in the pilots attitude, except Harry that is. Apparently, Harry knew much more about this man than anybody else.

"I swear I didn't spike the punch." Tom said and then grimaced, reaching a hand to touch his forehead, as if it would ease his splitting headache. He then pretended to finally notice the odd looks he was receiving from everyone and frowned. "What? Am I dying?" he joked half heartedly, hoping to break the intense silence.

"Depends, do you see a light at the end of a tunnel?" Harry asked.

"Nope, just a bunch of stars. What happened?"

"What do you last remember?" Tom looked at the Commander, who was watching him intently, and then he glanced, uncaringly, at the eagerly listening crowd in the mess hall. His eyes were looking for something.

"Here. Ayala took it down." Harry offered the Magtar to Tom, who took it carefully as he sat up and leaned against the metal table wall behind him.

"Thanks." He replied, and gave a very brief nod at Ayala and then turned back to ignoring him, instead focusing on Harry and the Commander. He still didn't have the best relationship with the security man. He placed the animal on his lap, handling it with an almost ridiculous care. "I had a dispute with some crew members and then we were called to the bridge. It's blank after that until now."

"So you don't remember anything else?" Harry drilled him gently.

"No, should I?"

"Let's not worry about that now. We don't know what is really happening on the ship but something attacked us, you fell and hit your head. We're stuck in here until engineering gets us out."

"Well, at least we won't starve." He replied, but the energy that Neelix was used to witnessing was missing from his voice. He noticed Harry look really carefully at Tom. "Am I the only casualty?" He asked, looking again behind the little group that thronged him.

"With the exception of a damaged finger, yes." The Commander replied, he was about to say something else when Tom held up his hand to stall him, his brow furrowing in puzzlement. And then a startled smile spread on his lips, and it was so innocent that Neelix instantly realized he'd never seen it on him before. It was amazing how different one looked with a simple, non-sarcastic smile.

"Yes, how…" his voice cut in and out a moment, and he grinned again.

"Lieutenant? What…" Tom once again held up his hand, demanding silence, then he seemed to be nodding to himself. Neelix began to worry that he wasn't back to his right frame of mind. That episode earlier had scared him and he never wanted to witness a repeat, even though he didn't understand what was going on. Then, Tom's gaze returned to Chakotay.

"Sorry Commander. It appears that the communications are down too?" The commander nodded, not quite understanding. "Tirzri'wa decided it was time to put his telepathy to use. He's been speaking with the Captain. Apparently we ran into an animal that was more dangerous than photon torpedo's. It's melted a bunch of circuitry but with repairs we should be released from here in about four hours."

"Will you be okay that long?" Tom rolled his eyes at the concern.

"I've been through worse." He off handedly commented.

"I know." Chakotay answered and Tom looked at him sharply, a comment barely restrained on his lips. There was much more going on here than Neelix understood, but he was suddenly sensing a new tension. Whatever was going on, he was beginning to think that these people were on very thin ground with Tom, if the warning in his eyes was anything to attest by. Chakotay immediately caught the warning and nodded to Tom. Then he stood and turned to the crowd of officers, who were still watching them intently.

"Looks like we're all going to be on a forced four hour break. I suggest you enjoy it, because it looks like we'll be doing a lot of repair work once we're out of here." There were some good natured groans from the crowd but everyone finally seemed satisfied that the drama that was Paris was over for the time being. Chakotay and Ayala headed off to a far corner to talk about…something. Neelix took the hint and stood as well, heading to do some kitchen duties, and Samantha followed him to help. She was such a generous and helping soul. He kept an eye on Harry Kim and Tom as he worked, making sure that if Tom needed something, a drink maybe, he would be able to get it immediately. Both men were leaning against the counter wall, Tom had placed the magtaur between them on the floor, slightly obscuring its view. They spoke in hushed tones, a private conversation between only them. Neelix kept most of his attention on his duties.

-()-

Harry watched Tom carefully as he distractedly pet his stuffed animal and tried to pretend nothing was wrong with him. His attempts of appearing at ease were not lost on Harry, nor was the fact that they were still sitting on the floor instead of investigating the circuitry as Tom would normally insist on doing, regardless of what everyone else said. Harry's pulse was still racing and he could feel the oncoming of one hell of a headache from the stress of the last half hour. He could sense Tom's eyes occasionally glimpsing covertly at him, no doubt picking up on his unease but unwilling to say anything. The stiffness of Tom's body was testament enough about the stress he was under but Harry wasn't sure if it was from his possible concussion or the magtaur he was continuously touching.

"Tom? Do you want anything, some water?"

"No, thanks though. I'm still feeling a bit, uhh, fuzzy in the head."

"No doubt, not even your skulls thick enough to take a direct hit."

"Ha ha." Harry looked at his friend, trying to catch his eye but failing. Tom was avoiding him, and that set off instant alarms in Harry's mind. Lately he felt as though he was walking on gel packs in an effort to not upset Tom; his friend had enough to think about already and didn't want an upset Harry Kim to add to his problems. The last thing he wanted was to make anything more stressfull for his friend. Tom deserved a break, but it was obvious it wasn't going to happen soon. While Harry prided himself on understanding Tom he knew he didn't, and probably never would, know everything about him. Right now was one of those moments and he hated it.

"Tom? Are you feeling okay? Really?"

"I'm fine Har…"

"Don't bullshit me Tom. I know you better than that." It still hurt that Tom would avoid answering truthfully without a little goading and insistence after everything that they had been through and shared together. It was a defense mechanism, to continuously test where he stood and assess how he should proceed. Tom had been weary of people for so long that even when he knew he had a solid friend in Harry he couldn't always drop the pretenses. Harry knew it wasn't on purpose, he even knew it was something Tom hated doing. Still, emotions were tricky things and Harry couldn't help feeling hurt despite the knowledge that this act meant nothing to their friendship. For the moment though, he had to push his feelings aside and he waited for Tom to reply. He was rewarded almost immediately.

"Sorry Harry. It's just..." he cut off, trying to decide on his words. "I've been on this ship with everyone for a year now and I've been, for the most part, control of my actions the entire time. Despite everything we've all been through and what I've been through I've never lost my temper on a crew member." He paused a moment and grinned humorously to himself. "For the most part anyway. This time though...when I walked in here and saw Cornick and Bathet underneath this" he gestured at his magtuar stuffed animal, an almost lost look on his face. "I saw red Harry, and I haven't been that angry at another person for something they personally did to me in a long time. These people Harry, they make me loose control, and I can't lose that." He finished and avoided looking at Harry, as though he'd made some sort of shameful admission for feeling as lost, unaccepted and even threatened as he was on board this ship. There were never any physical threats, but a harsh word could be as severe a blow as a fist.

Harry felt his anger in the pit of his stomach as he thought of all the comments he'd over heard directed at Tom over the year; all the jests, the accidental elbows, the occasional trashed room (that he wasn't supposed to know about because Tom had never breathed a word about it), the pranks, everything that had been done to make sure Tom knew how disliked he was by the crew had escalated and now he didn't know what Tom was going to do. The defeat in his voice struck a chord in his heart that made him become fearful for losing his friend once again. He was going to lose him because people were too stuck in poisoned past aggressions that they probably adopted from someone else in the first place. Not knowing what to do, now caught up in an entire new state of uncertainty with Tom, Harry put his hand on his best friends shoulder and squeezed in comfort.

"I'm sorry Tom." He waited a moment not knowing what else he could say and sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault Har, your practically the only good thing this ship has to offer." Tom grinned up at him, warming his heart with the sincerity in his blue eyes and Harry tried to look affronted.

"Practically the only good thing? What exactly is my competition?"

"Oh you know there's the holodecks, the food, the fabulous medical service not to mention that they actually let me fly her once in a while."

"Well, it looks like I need to fix some things on this ship to put me back at number one." Tom chuckled and then tried to hide a wince as his head was no doubt affected by the movement.

"Here you are Tom" Samantha appeared beside Harry and handed over a tea towel with some ice, she held a glass f water in her other hand. Harry watched as Tom accepted the towel, smiling his thanks and placing it on his rapidly bruising forehead. HE also noted how Tom pushed his magtaur almost behind his back, obstructing peoples view from it, almost as though he were protecting it. If Samantha noticed she didn't comment as she forced him to take a few sips of water. After the first one Tom sputtered a bit and pushed it away with a surprised and disgusted look on his face.

"I thought you said that was water! What the hell is in that:"

"Neelix threw in a bit of…some kind of remedy of his. He said it should help with the pain. Now drink."

"Sam, it tastes horrible. I'm not drinking that."

"Tom, you'll hurt his feelings." Samantha nodded towards the kitchen where Harry saw Neelix trying to not look too obvious as he watched to see if Tom would accept his remedy. Tom barely glanced at Neelix and then sighed, taking the glass from Sam and glaring at it a moment.

"The things I do for this crew" he muttered and then took a large gulp out of the glass before returning it to Sam. He even managed to look slightly satisfied by the beverage and leaned back against the counter. "Never drink that if you don't have to." He warned, though when Neelix smiled happily and bounced back into the kitchen a tiny smile graced Tom's own lips. Then he looked a bit surprised.

"What's wrong?" 

"Nothing, I'm just surprised that that stuff is actually helping with the pain a bit." She smiled and pat his thigh in comfort before standing and going to see if Naomi was okay. The child had been with ensign Delaney (Jenny) and looked like she was starting to get upset about the entire situation. Harry looked at Tom one more time, seeing the dark bags under his eyes from lack of sleep. Despite Tom not hinting at having any nightmares, Harry knew they were affecting him to.

"Why don't you try to get some rest. I'll wake you every half hour to make sure you don't slip into a coma."

"Thanks for the concern, but I'm fine."

"Tom, you need the rest."

"I do, but I am never going to sleep with all these people around." Harry nodded acceptance though he d known that getting Tom to drop his guard was a large improbability.

"So, you have any cards?" Harry asked, finally feeling his hands stop their shaking. Tom was okay, he wasn't going to harm himself or anyone else in the next little while and he was getting some of his colour back. Harry sighed in quiet relief and leaned back to sit beside Tom in companionable silence as the room buzzed around them.

-()-

"We're going to be here for two days to fix the last of the damage caused by that creature. I'm going to reduce shift hours to increase shore leave for everyone, and then we can be on our way." Janeway announced, looking around at her senior officers. Her crew was recovering from some pretty severe sleepless nights, which had increased in their intensity the last two evenings. Everyone was affected by the nightmares and the Widariats were claiming ignorance to the entire situation, though they said they'd look into if necessary. She wasn't happy with the situation, especially because she sensed that there was something going on between her senior staff that focused around Tom Paris and she didn't know what it was. She hated not knowing and Chakotay was being unusually tight lipped about it. She could order him to tell her but so far it didn't seem to be affecting wither officers work.

She noticed Harry shift uncomfortably in his seat and frowned. She'd also noticed that he'd been antsy in the last week, focused on his duties but even more so on Tom. Their chief pilot seemed to the focus of a lot of attention these days but she had yet to determine if that was a good or bad development. Whatever the situation was, she'd have to deal with it later, so long as it didn't affect overall performance. She was just to busy at the moment with all the necessary functions and responsibilities. Seeing that there was no reason to withhold her officers any longer she dismissed them.

Lingering in the room with his sharp brown eyes carefully looking around, taking in the details he may have missed in the last two years, was Harry Kim. He looked a bit…uncertain as he stood there deciding exactly why he stayed behind, but he was always one to organize his thoughts quickly.

"Captain. Don't you think we should just speed up the repairs and get on our way? We've been with the Widariats for a while now and I'm sure they'd like to be rid of us." He stated, the uncertainty in his voice even as he plowed on with his question. She couldn't help but quirk an eye at his odd statement, despite trying to remain formal, and looked at him with a bit of surprise showing.

"Is there something I should know about ensign? Because the last I checked, which was recently, we were still very welcome among these beings."

"Of course Captain, I just wanted to make sure that everything was okay." He nodded and left quickly to his bridge post and she shook her head in amusement. Harry Kim never ceased to amaze her, be it through genious approaches when working with any kind of technology, or through his innocent displays of emotion. He must be in an odd mood to wish to continue the journey so soon, but perhaps it was just home sickness creeping up on him again. With a sigh she turned to her desk to go over the systems reports, making sure she had a cup of coffee on the way.

On the bridge Harry couldn't stop himself from continuously looking at the back of his best friends head. Two more days, all he needed to do was keep Tom on the ship for two more days and then they'd be gone from this territory with Tom at the helm. God but every minute was eating a hole in his gut as Harry was the only person on the entire ship who was aware that they might be leaving this system without his best friend. And that, quite frankly, was unacceptable.


	9. 9

The crises involving the spacial Portuguese man-of-war had been over for two days, the crew was finally able to settle back into normal routine as the ship had been mostly fixed. Fortunately Voyager's main systems had been undamaged due to the electrical surge protectors that were mandatory on every ship in the Fleet. Obviously Voyager could have used a few extras, but for the most part a lot of hard work had everything back under control. So it was now 0213 in the early hours and Tom found himself once again wandering the empty halls of Voyager, doing his best to avoid any and all contact with every member of the crew.

The effort it was taking for this lonely trek was aggravating to him, his feet feeling as though they were incased in cement as he dragged them along the metal deck. It was with sadness that he admitted to himself the reason he felt so tired was from the weight he constantly felt he was carrying on his shoulders. The weight of the curious stares that he was now getting, mingling with the ones that were still filled with resentment and anger; the weight of the lives he had let depart those few years ago at the hands of the Cardassians; the weight of betrayal that he felt from friends in his past, from his own father; the weight of his responsibility to this crew that forced him to try and appear easy going and non-caring. He supposed the lack of sleep he'd been getting lately (along with the rest of the crew) was also a contributing factor; along with the concussion he'd received from gracefully smashing his head into a table, in front of the entire mess hall, after almost tying to murder two of his own crew.

Tom stopped abruptly and turned around, heading to observation lounge three which was just around the corner. He needed to see the stars, to try and make some sense of his rampant emotions. He stepped quickly into the room, glancing around briefly to ensure he was alone and then moved right in front of the large window, placing hands on the waist high sill for support. His life on Voyager was beginning to pull him down, and feeling this way only increased his sense of guilt. Over the past few weeks he had found himself contemplating life away from Voyager more frequently then ever before. He had some very positive reasons to stay: his friendship with Harry, perhaps the best he had ever had, and he had the respect of his Captain, which gave him a sense of responsibility over others that he didn't think he would ever feel comfortable with. He ascertained that his less then poor relationship with his father made him feel unworthy of her confidence in him, even if he knew he was one of the best pilot's Starfleet had ever produced.

He lost track of time as these tremulous thoughts plagued his mind. It didn't matter that he didn't recognize the stars outside because seeing them from the vantage of a moving ship reduced all known stars and constellations to simple streaks of light. As he gazed out he felt his anger, always hidden so deep inside him, start to boil to the surface. He took several long, deep breathes to control it, force it back into its cage where it shouldn't be able to escape. And taking a shaky breath of control he acknowledged that this was the true problem, this anger he was filled with. Sometimes the urge to hit something, or preferably someone, were so close to getting the better of him that it scared him. He knew exactly what he was capable of in a blind rage, and he had come too close to hurting people on this ship. It didn't matter that they most likely deserved it, if he couldn't control himself than he couldn't be here. He had been serious when he'd told Harry he couldn't tolerate losing control, and that their crew were beginning to draw his hate to the surface. It terrified him.

He squeezed the metal frame of the sill and felt satisfaction as the joints in his fingers and the muscles in his arms began to ache. What he needed was a vacation from this life, and it would take longer then a week. He needed to decide if he could afford to stay on Voyager now, after all that had happened. Chakotay knew about the Cardassian prison. Ayala knew. Others were probably figuring it out and soon he wouldn't be able to escape it. The looks they'd send him of pity or curiosity, of misguided respect or of disbelief, would infect him everyday. He'd see it in their eyes. He knew he had never 'dealt' with his past the way any psychiatrist or counselor worth their salt would have insisted on, but the support network had never been there when he'd needed it most and now he had developed his own program. His method of dealing worked just fine as long as he could remain in control of his emotions. Damn it! He slammed his fist hard on the cold sill and raised his arm to do it again when he heard the lounge doors slide open. Instantly he schooled his features to that of contemplation, and waited to acknowledge the newcomer.

Ayala was normally not the type of person who would pry into other people's lives. He resented gossips, was weary of do-gooders, and usually didn't care for ease-droppers. However, despite the harm such acts were capable of causing, he did recognize the fact that sometimes the only way to resolve a problem was to gain insight that was not meant to be shared. Therefore when Tom Paris had swiftly entered the observation lounge he'd been relaxing in, and had failed to see Ayala tucked away in the corner on the floor, Ayala made no attempt to announce his presence.

Tom Paris. Ayala watched the aforementioned man as he leaned his arms on the view ports ledge with a weight suggesting the ledge was the only thing holding Paris up. The pilot was confusing the shit out of him. Ayala had never read someone's personality as incorrectly as he'd apparently read this mans. Originally believing that Paris was a freeloading fleet brat who'd received everything with a blue ribbon tied neatly around it, including his Starfleet career, Ayala had taken an instant dislike to him. That had been back in the days of the Maquis. Voyager, Ayala had thought, was just another place where the pilot could try and screw people over for his own benefit. In the end it hadn't been Tom's efforts on Voyager to get along with the crew, or his almost suicidal bravery on away missions or incredible flying skills that had changed Ayala's mind about the younger man. It had been Tom's surprised attack on Chakotay all those weeks ago in the gym, when Ayala had glimpsed that scar imbedded in his flesh. That was when he'd known he'd somehow gravely misjudged the man.

Ayala knew Chakotay well, and he understood how hard it was to regain his Captains trust after he thought you'd thrown it away. Therefore he knew the first time they'd glimpsed the mottled scar that Chakotay hadn't trusted the truth behind it. Ayala could tell by the way he'd watched Paris over the next few days, as though he was trying to understand why he might fake such a disgusting brand, and what he would possibly gain from it. Ayala had believed in the truth of the mark before they had left the Gym; it had been the Fleeter's eyes and his hands that spoken to Ayala.

Tom's eyes when he'd attacked Chakotay, so violently swift, had been locked in an angry world of hate mingled with fear. Ayala's instinctive reaction had been that he was finally getting revenge for the way people were always bad mouthing, and occasionally physically assaulting him. After they had released Tom and he'd slowly stood Chakotay had pointed at his broken hands. Ayala knew, right then, that the punishment Paris was putting himself through was deep and violent and something that he kept locked away in a place no one was ever supposed to know about. Ayala knew this because he'd been there once, with the savage murder and rape of his wife and daughter. He'd tried to hide the violent anger, bury it and get his justice with every mission he flew with Chakotay. One day he'd snapped and brutally killed a Cardassian. Chakotay had started on him right after that and now, while still as angry, scared and sad as the day he'd found his dead family, he didn't hide the pain. He dealt with it as best he could.

Tom Paris had never dealt with this pain. He'd never uttered a word as far as Ayala knew, at least not to anyone other then Harry Kim. Ayala wasn't fooling himself anymore, he knew that Tom had been a prisoner of that place, and he'd been carefully watching Tom ever since. He'd never before noticed how much time Kim and Paris spent together, how Kim constantly stuck up for his friend when Tom wasn't around to hear him, how he seemed to look up to Paris as a friend that was worth every bit of his loyalty despite what everyone else said and thought about him. Ayala admired him for that. He also noticed that the pilot relaxed slightly when his friend was around, and that he was always trying to lighten the mood. There was a lot that Ayala had learned about this man, and still so much he didn't understand.

So now the object of his thoughts stood tiredly, staring out blankly at passing stars. His face was a mask of hopeless frustration, uncertainty, sadness, confusion…so many fleeting emotions that were so alien, because Tom never showed this side of himself to anyone. Yes Ayala felt guilty for hiding in the corner, presence unknown, but if it helped him understand, and then maybe help this man in the future, then it would be worth it. After waiting silently with Paris for the better part of an hour he was startled by Tom suddenly and viciously slamming his fist on the sill, a dull thud resounding around the room. As he raised his arm again Ayala was about to get up to stop him when the doors opened and in walked Tirzri'wa. Ayala frowned, and then his frown deepened when Paris turned and smiled, no hint of his former emotional struggle.

"Tirzri'wa."

"Tom." The being joined him and they both looked out the window a moment.

"Should I ask why you've sought me out so early in the morning, or just be flattered?"

"I awoke from a calm sleep and deduced that you were not resting."

"I'm not tired." Tom raised an eyebrow in question. "Though the fact that you know my sleep patterns is a bit strange."

"You know very well that your night dreams awaken myself as much as every other being on this ship. It will remain so until we have departed from your home. Tell me, will you sleep again once we are gone, or will it just be your shipmates that get to rest." Tom glanced sharply at the being and then back to the star port.

"They need to rest, and you can't seem to not project the nightmares. I'm not on shift tomorrow, I'll sleep then." Ayala stared at the two, the realization of what they were discussing caused a sick pressure to build in his chest. The nightmares that woke him, screaming on some nights, were Tom's. There was silence for a few more minutes and then Tom sighed, so deeply and sadly that the hairs on Ayala's neck stood on end in sudden trepidation.

"Are you deciding your course young friend?" Tirzri'wa questioned, and his feathers seemed to deflate a bit.

"I don't think there is much to decide Tirzri'wa. My crew is making up my mind for me. I'm not as strong as I pretend to be, and I am going to hurt someone if I remain here."

"Tom, you know they are unaware of the full extent of the pain they cause you. You can't expect them to bounce into acceptance as easily as they should. They have been blinded for so long and still can't see everything they need to." Tom refused to look anywhere but out the view port, his jaw clenched tightly. Ayala felt his own teeth grind almost painfully as he began to understand what might be going on.

"Tirzri'wa, I know that they will eventually come around, but I can't allow them the time. They make me lose control, and I can't allow that. I could end up killing them, and that is not acceptable. They are good people…" He trailed off, becoming unfocused for a moment and then smiled sadly. "Harry isn't going to know what to do. I know if I leave he'll try to come with me out of some deranged sense of honour. What I did to gain him as a friend I'll never know, but I wouldn't mind doing it again." Tom bit his lip and shook his head sadly. "He can't come though, because this ship is a place he actually calls home now, at least until they make it back to earth. Could you imagine him being with us on your planet and continuously wondering what his ship and friends were up to, whether or not they made it home. He'd drive me more nuts than I already am, and he'd regret his decision daily."

"I do not wish to turn you away from myself and my home world, but I want you to fully comprehend the decision you are making. If you leave them, then they will be gone forever. You will no longer have humans around."

"I never blended well with most humans anyway." A faint attempt at cockiness did nothing to lighten the heavy mood that swept the lounge. Ayala couldn't stop staring in shock; this was a path he hadn't even imagined the pilot would consider, yet it seemed he had actually already made the decision. Voyager was going to lose its chief pilot, and it didn't look like they were going to even be given a chance to make things right with him. Tirzri'wa looked down and met Tom's eyes as the pilot stared back and took a deep breath. Then there was a determined nod of his dark blond head, which signified that his decision was made. Tom Paris left the lounge with just as weary a step as he'd entered it with.

Tirzri'wa stared at the door a few moments before turning back to the stars, seemingly searching for answers. Ayala sat in a sort of uncomprehending shock, trying to make sense of a conversation he had fully understood. The alien being clucked a few times and then softly shook his head. He spoke quietly into the absolutely silent room, his soft voice carrying as easily as the louder conversation just had.

"I cannot tell if this is for better or for worse. However, the path that has been chosen has not yet come to pass." He turned and looked directly at Ayala for one piercing moment, and then he drifted quietly from the room, leaving Gregor Ayala with more questions, then answers.

Chakotay stood in the transporter room trying to look happy despite the iciness that was covering what felt like his entire stomach. The Widariats were saying their last adieus to the small crowd that had gathered in the larger of the two transporter rooms that Voyager contained. Janeway's smiles, he noticed, were more of a grimace upon her attractive face as she tried to play the happy ambassador. It was impossible for the Widariat's to not pick up on their pained emotions, yet they were hiding their own emotions well. Tirzri'wa was speaking to the captain in hushed tones, a look of slight sorrow encasing his features. Tuvok was his normal impassive self, discussing some obscure planetary policy with Rinkin'an. The door to the transporter room swooshed open and Chakotay saw both Janeway and Tuvok glance slightly, along with himself, to see who had entered. It was Ensign Kim. It wasn't difficult to notice his look of relief as he glanced around the room and didn't see his best friend, and there was no doubt in Chakotay's mind that that was who he was searching for. Janeway and Tuvok, Chakotay noticed, had once again focused on their conversations. Harry, apparently not knowing who's conversation to join, walked over and stood stiffly beside Chakotay. He looked a little pale.

"Are you all right ensign?" Chakotay enquired for lack of anything better to discuss.

"I will be, once we're heading home again sir." Harry answered, though Chakotay wasn't sure if the young man was even aware he'd answered, still surveying the room intently, just incase he eyes were deceiving him. Chakotay glanced at the doors again and was surprised to see an entire group of officers enter, led by Ayala of all people. It was an open house, meaning that anyone who wished could come and say a few last words to their new allies, but Chakotay had never seen Ayala speaking directly with any of the Widariat delegates before so he thought it strange for him to arrive tonight. With Ayala was a grumpy looking B'Elanna Torres, who no doubt hadn't wanted to leave her engine room. She immediately headed towards Tuvok and Rinkin'an, who was the Widariat she had associated with the most during their stay on Voyager. Neelix and Kes were in the group as well and Kes was looking just as worried as Harry. Gerron Tem, Samantha Wildman, the Delaney sisters and Kevin Porter were there also. Only Kes and Neelix split off to speak to the other groups, the rest seemed to congregate together, looking a little confused as to why they were there. Ayala had an anxious glint in his eye as he stood close to the door, most likely ensuring that none of his group tried to leave.

"Just leave already." He heard Harry mutter under his breath and found himself whole-heartedly agreeing, though he knew the time of their departure would not make any difference. Tom would still be joining them on their home planet before Voyager left orbit. Chakotay inhaled deeply, remembering the meeting Tom had called only four hours before. Their pilot had called for Janeway, Chakotay, and Tuvok to be present, where he informed them of his plans to leave Voyager and remain with the Widariat's. His resignation had stunned all three of them; Tuvok hadn't even raised an eyebrow in enquiry. They didn't utter a word until he removed his two pips and placed them beside his pad of resignation, and his full intentions set in. Janeway had stood in disbelief.

"Lieutenant, what is your reasoning? As the chief pilot and a Senior Officer you have a responsibility to this ship and her crew. I cannot accept this resignation." She pushed it back towards Tom. Chakotay knew at that moment that this wasn't another set up; the first time Tom had resigned she had calmly accepted the pad and pips as though it had only been a matter of time. The denial in her eyes told him that she had not one clue that Tom had been planning to leave her ship.

"_I'm sorry Captain, but it is not your choice. I do not feel I can continue as an officer aboard this ship without placing fellow cremates in danger."_

"_Tom." She said quietly. "What is this about? How would you possibly be endangering them? You are the best pilot and one of the finest officers onboard this ship. Please reconsider. We can find a solution to whatever problems you feel you have." Tom took a slightly shaky breath and looked over, briefly, at Chakotay. This was about his attack on Cornick and Bathet that took plays days before. This was about Chakotay knowing about his imprisonment. This was about something that Chakotay didn't know about yet and Tom was trying to prevent him and the rest of the crew knowing. Tom was running away from his problems. They had finally pushed him over his edge of endurance._

"I'm sorry Captain. My decision is final. I have listed suitable replacement recommendations for all my duties on board Voyager. The Widariats have agreed to allow me to stay on their home world where I will remain unless another more suitable option arises." He took a steadying breath and he met Janeway's eyes head on for the first time in this meeting. "Thank you, Kathryn, for everything that you've done for me. I know I didn't deserve it, and that I'm letting you down now. You'll just have to trust me when I say it's for the best…

Chakotay's reminiscence was interrupted as the door slid open again. He saw Janeway's sharp eyes glance over, and then lose some of their spark. Tom Paris had arrived for what would be the last time.

"Tom, no." Harry uttered in despair beside Chakotay as he turned to look. Tom had arrived, dressed not in his Starfleet uniform, but in black pants, cream shirt and a red-brown sleeveless vest. He did not carry any bags. He stopped just inside the door, looking pale and nervous, but his resolve was obvious with the way he stood. It was his lack of uniform that began catching the crew's attention and they began to look at him in slight confusion. Harry quickly advanced upon his best friend, his eyes on fire with a determination that Chakotay saw every time Voyager was in a dangerous confrontation. Tom looked as though he had expected this. He tried to lead Harry to a corner of the room but Harry was having none of that as he stopped his friend in the center. The room began to grow silent as the crew realized something was amiss. Ayala, Chakotay notices, was gazing intently and slowly making his way towards them as well.

"Tom, don't do this." Harry gazed at his friend fiercely. It came as an afterthought that Harry knew Tom was leaving them, that he wasn't surprised by the decision even though Tom had asked them to not say anything about his departure to anyone. Harry had still known.

"Harry, I'm sorry." Tom shook his head, meeting his friends eyes briefly before staring at the ground, over his shoulder, off to his left…

"You've lasted this long Tom, things can only get better from here. They just need more time. Just give them a little more time."

"I can't…"

"You can Tom! Please!" He hissed, in an attempt to keep from yelling. In the silence of the room it was impossible not to hear him anyway. Tom looked sharply into Harry's eyes, his blue gaze piercing, shining as though tears might soon form.

"Harry, I can't." He shook his head but didn't break eye contact. Chakotay swallowed thickly. Harry squared his shoulders and stood taller, not breaking their eye contact, his face determined.

"Then I'm coming with you." He stated boldly, not a waver to his voice.

"What the hell is going on here?" B'Elanna's demanding voice cut through the air, but nobody answered. She began to thread her way through the crowd to reach the two men. Ayala was now standing just off to the side. The other officers in the room looked shocked, the Delaney sisters kept glancing meaningfully at Janeway, as though she should step in and put a stop to this. Chakotay became even more worried, because Voyager could not afford to lose Harry on top of Tom. Losing Tom was hard enough.

"No, you're not Harry." Tom said quietly, reaching out and firmly gripping his friends shoulder. "Voyager needs you, she's your home. You need to get back to earth."

"So do you Tom!" he deducted fiercely.

"There is nothing for me there Harry, you know that. You have a life, family, friends…"

"And what about me? I'm your family too Tom. What about Kes, Janeway, and the doctor, we're your friends too."

"We'd be sorry to see you go Tom. Harry's right, the crew just need more time, but they will come around." Ayala stepped in, his soothing voice carrying confidently around the room. Chakotay noticed those that were not still taken by shock nodding their heads in agreement. Tom did too, but pretended not to notice.

"You can't just leave." Torres demanded angrily. "You're the best pilot we've got!"

"Baytart is an excellent pilot. You will all be in safe hands with him as well as with Jensen and Corally." Tom rebuffed calmly, still looking hard at Harry who was glaring right back. They were having an entirely separate conversation that nobody understood except the two of them.

"Tom, don't go. Seriously, you can't let a couple of bad apples turn you away from the entire crew." Megan called out and her sister nodded vigorously in agreement. But they didn't know the entire story. Janeway and Tuvok didn't know, not even Ayala or he understood the situation fully. It was clear to Chakotay that only two people understood what was really going on, and why Tom was leaving, and that was Tom and Harry. Tirzri'wa, Chakotay guessed, probably knew more then himself but he was not stepping in to say anything. This was Tom's choice and only Harry had any real right to say anything. The room fell to a brief silence as they watched the intense staring contest between the two best friends, and then Tom abruptly pulled Harry into a forceful embrace. Harry returned the grip as if he would never let go.


	10. 10

Notes: Thank you all so much for continuing to read this story and sending me all of your wonderful feedback! I'm going to try and wrap this sucker up soon so you don't have to wait another year to find out what happens  I only hope that it meets your expectations in the end. I apologize for all the bad grammar and such, I've never been good in that area and I have no beta reader. I also apologize if my writing style fluctuates throughout chapters, but I'm sure you all know how styles can change depending on your mood.

All of your encouraging comments have finally made me feel guilty enough to get a move on  and I hope you continue to enjoy this story

**Chapter 10**

"And the things you said to me today, changed my perspective in every way" – The Cranberries

It had been three earth standard days since Voyager had left the Widariats home world and things were running smoothly. Tom had been given a comfortably sized home within a tree that was only five minutes walk from Tirzri'wa's own home. He had dinner with his friends' family for two of the three evenings he'd been here, and while the food was good, it lacked in the colour he'd grown accustomed to dishes having onboard Voyager. Tirzri'wa's two children had been fascinated by Tom, which had greatly amused him. While the Widariats were an extremely well rounded culture that accepted many different alien species to visit their world, it was apparent that any aliens choosing to live on their planet remained much closer to the big cities. Tom was the only non-Widariat within this community.

They had thought it highly amusing that Tom couldn't hold a conversation and eat at the same time and had been told off twice for laughing at the dinner table while Tirzri'wa and his partner waited patiently for him to swallow before answering a question. Tirzri'wa's life partner was called Anj'azi, and Tom was astounded by the beautiful magenta colour her own feathers comprised of. Standing beside the two of them Tom felt extremely pale, though his lack of feathers caused just as much fascination from anyone who passed him. The young ones, Raj and Shan (who had not yet come of the age to gain the second half of their name) had taken an instant liking to petting his hair whenever given the chance. Seeing as he was so tall they took to trying to climb up his back to reach when their parents weren't looking. Tom loved it; it had been so long since he'd been around children (with exception to Naomi who was still too young to be performing such mischief) that he soaked up their attention. Both children sprouted a speckled feather covering of magenta and bright orange, not yet old enough to mature into either their father or mothers colouring. They'd asked Tom, the second time he came over for dinner, what his children would look like since he didn't have any feathers but that his mate might. He'd choked, along with Tirzri'wa, on his Prap juice at the thought of such a mixture and was able to avoid answering the question by jumping up to help Tirzri'wa clear the table of its dishes.

It had been so busy since the departure of Voyager that he hadn't had time to really sit down and think about anything. Everything was so new and exciting that it was impossible to feel any remorse at his decision. He knew it would only be a matter of days before the full impact of this decision hit him; when he wanted to tell Harry about what he'd been up to or bounce around ideas with the brilliant operations officer. There wouldn't be any more games of hockey or having quiet drinks in Sandrine's. He would miss his conversations with Kes, Neelix and the Doctor, and the encouraging words from Captain Janeway. He knew he had made the right decision to leave, because he couldn't stay on Voyager without the accusing stares, practical jokes, room trashing and harsh comments getting to him. He had been slowly dying there, despite how much Harry had been there for him and tried to help. He had reached his limit. If it were possible he would have just taken an extended leave of absence, but seeing as he couldn't detain Voyager for the few months away there was no alternate choice.

Until he truly started to miss her though, Tom was treating this as a sort of working vacation. Tirzr'wa, who was highly respected in his field for studying spacial occurrences and pretty much every other phenomenon that takes place within outer space and on various planets and moons, had high connections within the governing body. Anj'azi, who worked as an engineer for special projects, had connections within the space programs. Tom, with piloting skills unmatched on Voyager, was also considered extremely gifted on Widaria, and through the three of them he landed a high profile job as a test pilot for experimental spacecraft. It was a dream job for him, and considering how advanced they were in space flight their ships were unmatched by most he'd ever seen.

Certainly the federation had come up with highly advanced ships but they had not yet positively agreed on sanctioning the use of AI in aircrafts. As Tom found out on his second day on their planet, the Widariats used AI technology to a certain extent in all of their aircraft. Of course the level of integration differed in each craft pending on the purpose of it's design, and they never allowed anyone to be linked personally to an AI, fearing the possible brain damage such an endeavor could incur. Tom had drooled when he'd began looking at all the different models of ships he would be required to learn to fly before beginning on the more current projects. On the third night on this planet, trudging home along the tree branch sidewalks, only paying half a mind to not falling off of the towering pathways, Tom began to get nervous about the next morning. It was his first day at work and he knew he had to begin proving his skills all over again. The people on Voyager had known he was good, however he feared the reactions of the Widariats to having an off worlder working along side them without ever having attended their schools.

He entered his home and shut the solid door. There was no need for locks within this community, which put Tom on edge despite how safe he knew this area was. After so many years of being locked in or locking others out of his life he had grown accustomed to the security. Alone in his new dwelling his paranoia was able to get the better of him. He couldn't stop himself from setting up a rudimentary alarm system; placing a toy ball that jingled loudly at the slightest movement (a childs toy) at the base of his main door and his bedroom door. Placing sticks with bells on the ends through the handles of his securely closed windows… he felt shame for being fearful, but he was not about to risk his security just because he was told the neighbourhood was safe. He'd felt safe before and had suffered some of the worst experiences of his life.

His home was cozy, and oddly enough the faint swaying of the tree when it was windy comforted him. He was used to sleeping on Voyager and the constant hum of the engines and the continuous course changes had created a very faint movement that he had grown accustomed to. His bedroom consisted of a twin-sized bed that's base was hewn from the actual wood of the tree. As in most homes they were designed for maximum comfort as well as efficiency. The shelves were designed and carved directly into the wall, counters and tables were also carved from the tree itself, but all surfaces were treated with specific glazes and plasters to make for smooth, heat resistant, and well-finished surfaces. All the homes smelt like trees, and they were all beautiful.

Tom's closet was small, but he didn't own very many clothes. He also had a dresser and night table in his room. Everything in this community was solar powered and fairly basic as far as technology went. Tirzri'wa had apologized for this; he had chosen to live here to have an escape from technology, seeing as he was surrounded by it on a daily basis. Simplicity is calming, he had said, and Tom hadn't minded. They had all the comforts necessary, such as excellent waste disposal, energy, cooking appliances much like a stove and oven that Tom was familiar with. A small cooling cube, audio entertainment system (Which played some really weird music. Tom was glad he'd though to bring along his own supply), lights, heat and everything else necessary. As a housewarming gift Anj'azi had given him some brightly coloured curtains and liquids he could use in the shower. Tom had brought a rather large supply of shampoo with him (seeing as they didn't need to wash their hair) and hoped that these liquids would be able to have the same results, otherwise he'd have to start designing his own brand.

After he set up his alarm system he changed and crawled under his covers, gratefully sinking into the mattresses softness. He fell asleep quickly, hoping against hope that he would be able to have a dreamless sleep for the third night in a row.

Tirzri'wa had brought the human to Mana'ri's building five minutes early that morning, which had irritated him, though he made sure not to show it. He was sure Tirzri'wa knew how he felt about having the human fast tracked through the system the way he had, and he knew the being could sense his annoyance. When heard they had arrived he left his office and traveled to the main floor to greet the newest pilot under his observance. The Human had smiled and nodded his head as was customary and Mana'ri did the same, gazing in slight curiosity at the being. His features weren't as harsh as some he had met, in fact they were fairly shapeless, lacking any ridges, folds, or excessive protrusions. The only thing sticking out had been what he'd assumed was a breathing appendage in the middle of his face. He had a light fur on his head and pale flesh. His eyes were a stunning blue, and Mana'ri determined instantly that that was his most interesting feature.

Oddly enough he did not sense any particular emotions coming from this being, and while he was not nearly as strong in telepathy as Tirzri'wa, he did have some empathic skills. He would discuss this peculiar phenomenon with Tirzri'wa later. He nodded at the human and asked him to follow. Silently he took him to the other end of the building where he entered an observation room with a large glass wall that looked over a hangar with, currently, twenty-eight different crafts. He felt a glimmer of interest from the being before it was shielded abruptly.

"Tom, this is hangar three. We have nine more scattered throughout this facility, which you will be shown later. You will understand that while you have joined us with excellent credentials we have no real knowledge of your skill and knowledge level." Tom was nodding, as though agreeing with him, but his eyes were focused outside the glass, scanning the ships intently. Mana'ri frowned, not sure how to interpret this action, was the human not listening to him at all or was he hearing everything but simply enraptured by the vision. True it was impressive if one was not familiar with walking though it every day.

"Therefore we will have to give you a basic examination on our technologies that will be mainly oral and you will have your mechanic and flight abilities tested in hypothetical rooms before being allowed to fly one of our ships."

"It would be irresponsible if you expected anything less." The human responded and looked over to meet his eye. "When can I start?"

"When you have studied enough."

"I'm ready now. I've been camped in my accommodations studying the technologies and blue prints of these ships. I'm ready." It was a bold statement but this human was all business and, apparently, eager to begin flying. He stared into those blue eyes intently, not seeing anything but a drive to get started. His annoyance arose once more at the fact that this man thought he could understand their ships from three days of study. It was ridiculous, of course, but if he wanted to start right away than so be it. It would simply speed up the process of having him dismissed from the project, because Mana'ri did not think he had the necessary skills, despite what Tirzri'wa said. Together they headed towards the sim room. Maki'naj would meet them there and they could proceed.

The nightmares had returned and Tom found himself taking walks through the sun lit trees when he should have been in bed resting. He had been here two and a half Widaria days, which equaled to just about seven and a half earth days. He could no longer deny that he missed Harry, or that he missed being in space, despite the fact that he had flown in space the last three earth days. He had quickly gained Mana'ri and Maki'naj's friendship after he had proven himself worthy of their program. He had been there for only three days and they had begun treating him like a brother. Tirzri'wa said that this was the way of most Widariat's, to adopt a stranger so quickly. It was apparent that they could read his emotions, just as the delegates on Voyager had done, and they determined he was trustworthy. He had dropped most of his emotional shields on his second shift with Mana'ri, because he sensed his lack of apparent emotion disturbed the being.

Despite his sleeping patterns being much more frequent than anyone else they had worked him a manageable timetable. The AI technology was incredible and, sensing his interest, they had focused him on learning exactly how it worked, seeing as he had no problem flying any of their ships despite the alien technology. He was extremely glad that he'd spent all those extra years learning in depth computer technology on top of his piloting, engineering and astrometrics studies while growing up.

His father had him training for Starfleet entrance exams when he was only thirteen, by the time he was fourteen he could understand everything he needed to know to pass. He'd become bored, and began searching for more knowledge, in anything he could get his hands on. Learning was easy for him, it seemed to come as naturally as breathing. He'd managed to bypass Starfleet security and enter into any computer within Starfleet Headquarters that he wanted by the time he was fifteen. When he turned sixteen he realized that having this knowledge was dangerous and stopped infiltrating the system. At seventeen he entered Starfleet, a year before the required age. His father had wanted him to write the exams before then, but he'd insisted he wasn't ready. If he had known the freedom Starfleet would give him, away from the dominating control freak that his father was, he would have written the entrance exams when he was fifteen. He had finally been allowed to breath, to make friends, to play sports, to explore the bodies of others. It was absolute freedom, and the classes were easy.

So, he found no real difficulty understanding how the AI technology worked. He knew it would take a year before he fully understood it and could begin helping with any design in that area, but the basics were simply fascinating, and the integration with ships! Incredible.

He smiled easily on this planet, not afraid of how the beings would interpret a show of happiness. They didn't know him, have opinions about him, his past or his attitude. They didn't treat him like an unwanted plague, or gum stuck to the bottom of their shoe. They didn't try to push his emotional limits, to see how far they could attack him before he pulled rank. They didn't do any of this, because they didn't care to. They genuinely liked him, were interested in what he had to say, thought his jokes were funny and tales about earth interesting. He was a person worth being around. Living here he felt like he did on Voyager only when he was with Harry: he was human, and he was a friend. And now the damn nightmares were back.

Tom sat on a wooden bench and gazed down, through the thick glass floor, at the trees below and, somewhere under that, the ground. Tirzri'wa, who had been following him the last five minutes, sat down beside him.

"Your night fears are back."

"Is it that bad?"

"My little one began crying and didn't understand why she suddenly felt so angry and afraid." Tom looked at him sharply and exhaled. He leaned back and stared across the pathway, at more trees beyond. He could see a little blue sky peaking in from above.

"Shit." He muttered. If his dreams were going to affect everyone around him he would soon become unwelcome here.

"Don't think that! The community has accepted you and the adults understand that you cannot shield properly. It will only be a matter of weeks before we teach the young to shield your fears. The rest of us are trained."

"Why couldn't you shield on Voyager then? Why is it easier here?"

"It was the time of the awakening. Once a year for several days we open ourselves to feel everything, to understand everyone. For days after we have difficulty controlling our barriers. You and you're crew were, in a sense, unfortunate to have such powerful telepaths on board at the time. It would have been much less severe if it had been a group with Mana'ri's perceptions instead of ours." Tom sat in silence for a minute and then shook his head. It didn't matter, it was a thing of the past.

"You can not help feeling defensive Tom, it's a reaction that has been developed within yourself since childhood."

"Did I make the right decision Tirzri'wa? Leaving them?"

"You know you did. You were beginning to hurt yourself, you would never have been able to heal. The negative energy that you have been dealing with for so long was becoming too much."

"I just can't seem to let go. I thought by leaving them I would be able to forget…"

"No, you hoped you would be able to forget. What you know is that you can't forget, that you need to accept what happened to you, and that this acceptance will let you begin healing."

"It's not that easy, to just accept it. I think I've passed the point of healing."

"If you truly felt that way, then you would not have cared whether or not you began to hurt your fellow crewmates on Voyager." They sat in silence for a long time, listening to the leaves rustle and the flying creatures purring songs, lost in their own thoughts. Tom had almost stayed on Voyager that day, when Harry had begged him and Ayala, of all people, had stepped in and told him that he didn't need to leave. He had almost changed his mind, but he knew it was for the wrong reasons, for weak reasons. Friendship was not enough to protect them or himself from his anger.

"I did seek help you know." He suddenly blurted out, unable to stop himself. He heard a distant, mirthless chuckle that he realized must have been his own. "After I escaped." He clarified. He looked over at his companion and noticed that his feathers were flat on his head, which meant he was focusing completely on Tom.

"You did not receive any?" His friend asked, shocked. Tom laughed bitterly and closed his eyes, thinking back.

"I wouldn't say that. I got help, in the end, and along the way I learned one of the most valuable lessons of my life: Trust is for fools."

"What happened?"

"There's not much to the story actually. I escaped from that…place, and sold the shuttle on a border planet…

It hadn't been difficult, finding a buyer on the back streets, especially considering that he was asking for one third of what the shuttle was worth. He didn't make nearly enough money to get off this planet, and he was in absolutely no shape for a journey of any kind He had carried his purse to the nearest clinic, taken one look through the front door and turned around. There was no way he was going to be treated by a doctor that got his degree by reading medical articles published in entertainment papers. There was no way that place had been licensed, and he doubted anywhere else in the vicinity was any better. So he'd done the next thing he could think of, he went into a store that sold basic medical supplies, purchased an assortment of items, some water and food, and then hobbled out.

He knew he was going to start attracting attention, carrying around a bag of medical supplies, draped in dirty brown clothes, and limping heavily. He found a run down hotel and paid for the night. As he'd reached the tiny room he felt the blood finally begin to drip through the makeshift bandage on his arms and onto the floor. He dropped his bags and immediately pried the security pads cover off. The clerk had given him a code but he'd be damned if he was going to use it. He rewired the lock to beep if it was being accessed and changed the code completely. It was rudimentary, but it was the best he could do at the moment.

Collapsing on the bed he let out a groan of agony and furiously wiped away the tears that leaked out of his eyes. He didn't have time to cry, he needed to fix his wounds before they became infected and then figure out how he would get back to earth where he could get proper medical care.

The only regenerators the store had healed minor skin abrasions and had been way more credit than it was worth. Slowly he stripped out of the dirty cloths and pulled out antiseptics and bandages. He cleaned all the cuts and burns he could reach, but the one on his arm was too deep to leave alone, and he had nothing to properly close the wound with. He settled for wrapping a bandage around his arm and trying to pull the wound closed. He iced his knee, which had been twisted wickedly, and bound it tightly to prevent movement. The next thing he knew it was morning and a dull light was shining through his tiny window. It was a cloudy day outside.

He'd left the hotel shortly after drinking all his water and throwing away most of the food; he couldn't eat it, his stomach kept rebelling on him. His body had been on fire, his wounds begging for proper attention and old wounds reminding him that they hadn't been properly healed. A vicious cramp lodged in his stomach and refused to leave, he thought he might have had a minor concussion from banging his head as he'd attempted not to watch them get…not to watch. He entered an establishment that didn't look as though it catered to law-abiding citizens and sat in a corner, ordering the strongest drink they had and hoping it would help curb the pain. It succeeded in numbing his body, but not his mind.

He watched, all day, as patrons came and went. There was a Bolian card game taking place in one corner, a drinking competition a few tables down, and a wall set up for knife toss at the other end of the room. As the evening came more customers arrived. Gambling increased and bets were made. Several times that day Tom had stood and thrown the knives when no one had felt like playing. He didn't do very well, and stopped after he'd tossed each different knife the place owned. Now he stood again and joined the rather large crowd, determined who the bookie was and waited. It wasn't long before he'd picked his target: A Klingon who, being extremely confident in his skill and heritage, was boasting of his skills. Tom offered a challenge and it was accepted. Quickly the news of him not being very adept at throwing knives (for people had been in the bar all day along with himself) traveled and bets were made. He hadn't been sure on how to play this round, but when the Klingon insisted on heading to relieve himself before beginning Tom had sidled up to the bookie and, very quietly, changed his bet. The scaly Omatherian had smiled slightly.

"You sure human?"

"Positive."

"You're funeral if you can't pay up." But Tom surprised them, and won in the first round (pilot hand-eye coordination came in very useful outside of flying and playing pool). Quickly, while the Klingon had still been stunned Tom passed the Omatherian, grabbed the chit that was handed to him, and left the bar. The lizard like being had been grinning, which meant he had changed his bet along with Tom's, recognizing a shark and using it to his own advantage. As the door closed he heard the Klingon bellow in out rage and he limped quickly down the street and out of sight.

The next morning he took his hefty winning and bartered passage to earth. Within two hours he was gone.

He still couldn't eat, drinking broth to try and get nutrients into his system and sleeping almost constantly. The pain in his stomach was increasing and a slight fever set in on his second day on the ship. A Bajoran male, Tom had never learned his name, had taken to checking on him every few hours. It was he that helped Tom to the communication console when the bucket of bolts they were flying in came into communication distance with the federation; its system was so far out of date it was amazing it still worked. Tom called his dad, and finally allowed himself to feel relieved. He would get help and soon he would be safe. However, when his father answered the communiqué, after ten minutes of making Tom wait, he had appeared busy and uninterested.

"What is it Thomas, I'm very busy." The cold words had stunned Tom and he forgot what he had been planning to say. His stomach flared in pain and he took a breath to steady himself. He berated himself for thinking that his dad might have been worried about him. After the last month he had created an image of his father in his mind, which had him smiling in relief at finally seeing his son. Tom had forgotten how focused on Starfleet, and not his family, that his father was.

"Admiral. It's good to see you." He managed, trying to sound formal, despite the sense of trepidation he began to feel upon the mans steely greeting. Hard blue eyes suddenly looked up at the screen and the admiral frowned.

"Where have you been?" He asked, taking no heed to Tom's words. Tom felt like a child again, guilt welling inside him because he wasn't sure if he had done something wrong.

"I've been…Dad, I…I need your help."

"What's wrong with you Thomas? Have you been taking drugs? Is this how you cope with embarrassing your family? By running away and creating more embarrassing scenario's?" There was a cold anger in his father's voice, as though he was dressing down a particularly aggravating cadet.

"What? No! I need you're help dad, I'm injured and sick. I'm on my way home now but you need to know what happened…" The admiral didn't want to hear it, and his face had boiled into a scalding red. The only time Tom had ever seen his father this angry had been when he hit Tom, and that had only happened a few times…

"How dare you Thomas. You disappear off the face of the earth and then, over a month later, call me begging me for help. It's bad enough that you embarrass me by falsifying reports and being kicked out of Starfleet, but now you're a junkie and think you can crawl home for sympathy! The reporters would have a field day with this!"

"I'm not doing drugs dad!" Tom yelled, exasperated. He sat up taller and ignored the dizzying pain. "I was kidnapped Dad! The Cardassians were waiting for me when I left earth! I've been-"

"As if I can believe a single word that comes out of your mouth." The admiral snarled. His face was returning to its normal colour and Tom had frozen mid word, struck dumb by the cold cut off. "You think you can garner sympathy from your mistakes by creating fruitless stories? Well think again. You are on your own this time Thomas. Don't even think of coming home until you are clean and at least partially respectable." And then Tom was staring at a blank screen, where he father had been only moments before. After a few minutes he had been able to calm his breathing and stop the panic attack that had almost overwhelmed him. His father had turned him away. He hadn't believed a single word that Tom had said, hadn't even been worried about how sick he looked.

Tom had forgotten, in his month of captivity, the anger Starfleet had built against him because of Caldick Prime. He had been outcast and shunned, his friends had turned their backs, his fiancé had left him, his family refused to speak to him and now his own father had turned him away when he had told him what had happened. He told him the truth! Tom felt something inside him shift out of place, and in the gap it left nothing but a cold, empty feeling. If his own father wouldn't believe him, nobody would. He was completely alone, and as he fell off his stool he knew that he would never again be the same.

Tom opened his eyes and found himself back on Widaria, a cool breeze licking his face and Tirzri'wa's supportive hand on his shoulder. He surprised himself by not pulling away from the touch, seeing as he usually felt threatened with too much physical contact. He coughed, suddenly self conscious, and shifted nervously in his seat, not looking over at his friend.

"After that," he forced himself to continue, "the Bajoran took me to his home and disappeared. His parents nursed me back to health and I worked on their farm for a few months to repay the debt. They never asked any questions and I had been betond talking about it at that point. I went back to earth and began working as bartender at a place called Sandrine's. I joined the Maquis, went to jail and then ended up on Voyager." He finished his tale and didn't know what else to say.

"Come." His orange feathered friend ordered, standing abruptly. "You need to get some food into you before your next shift. Tonight you shall join us for your supper." Tom smiled at him, relieved that he wouldn't have to keep talking. Soon he would be back in the air, flying one ship or another, and he could forget all about that bit of his past for at least a few hours.


	11. 11

"As I walk along these streets

I see a man that walks alone

Distant echo of people's feet

He has no place to call his own" –Staind

Tirzri'wa's found that his emotions were difficult to understand, even as he sat alone in his office and tried to sort them out. He had known that there must have been a betrayal in Tom's past to make him so afraid to tell his story to others. He knew that the betrayal of his father had led his friend down an emotional path that required hiding all his pain and never allowing his fellow beings to help him. He had locked himself away, fabricating an image to display to everyone he felt was a threat; to everyone he determined wouldn't believe him. Tirzri'wa only knew what happened at that prison from nightmares and flares of emotional pain that Tom had unknowingly unleashed when on Voyager, and in honesty he did not wish to know everything.

Tom had been breaking on Voyager, but he was not truly beginning to heal on Widaria. He had begun to allow himself to openly enjoy what he was doing, to laugh and smile and not be as afraid as he had been on his ship. This was an improvement because it was allowing him to fully realize that he could still enjoy life, and that he deserved to enjoy it. Tirzri'wa feared that his friends absence from his ship was allowing him to place a thicker wall around his past. No longer being immersed in an environment that would force him to eventually deal with his emotional issues Tom was trying to forget them. The problem was that Tirzri'wa knew Tom wouldn't be able to forget, and when the humans night fears had begun again his worries had been proven.

He had discussed his fear with his partner, and she had agreed that Tom would not allow himself to deal with his issues if he thought he had escaped that part of his life. He feared he would not be able to help his friend, and that would be a true shame because he could feel the goodness in the beings soul, Tom had the potential to be happy and accomplish many great things. To lose such an incredible being would be tragic.

Maki'naj and Mana'ri spoke highly of Tom despite knowing him for only a few days. "There is great potential in that one!" Mana'ri had enthusiastically informed Tirzri'wa after Tom's first work shift. "Bright as a star and he doesn't hold back on his ideas. We've already changed the configuration of the Krita'ksa's landing unit to incorporate his suggestions. He flies as if he is the ship. I tell you Tirzri'wa, once he understands the full functions of the AI aide he will be the best pilot Widaria has seen since Trin'tact." This was high praise and very deserved. He determined that the Voyager's might have started to realize the extent to which their pilot went to benefit their ship. It was a true shame they hadn't realized it before he left, because Tom had done more than simply fly with grace.

Despite all this Tirzri'wa felt aggrieved. He couldn't understand all his emotions. Being such a developed telepath led him to picking up on others emotions and sometimes becoming confused as to which were his own and which belonged to someone else. He feared that, when on Voyager, he had been influenced into helping Tom when he shouldn't have. He remembered telling Harry Kim that he should not worry; everything would work out for the best in the end. That had been near the beginning of their trip. As the days wore on and the awakening began he feared his emotions might have been affected by Tom's night fears and the crews massive amount of jumbled feelings. Now he worried that he had made the wrong choice offering Tom a place to stay. He knew his friend needed to escape for a while, but this solution seemed a little too permanent. Tom's spirit was too free to remain in one place, and his escaping his past may be more damaging than anything else.

But what other solutions were there? He had thought about suggesting that the program give Tom a ship. He knew they would seriously consider it, because Widariat's hold no true ties with profit and gain. Their culture had long ago exceeded the greed that would hold them back from developing into the open and free race they were this day. However no Widariat would accompany Tom, for it is not in their nature to permanently leave their habitat. It would be a lonely voyage and Tirzri'wa felt that Tom's stubborn nature would not allow him to head towards his old ship. His friend was much to proud and did not trust enough to go back.

So these are the thought that occupied his mind when he should have been preparing a summary of the fascinating findings he had collected over the last few months away from home. He stared out of his work towers large window at the forest shrouded city below him, not seeing the shuttle vehicles pass by or the flying group of mikrinar that passed not four meters from his window. Somewhere, on a path that led away from Widaria, Captain Janeway and her crew were flying at warp three in their magnificent ship, and he knew that several of the beings on the ship were hoping that their stray pilot would meet up with them before leaving this sector of space completely. That was only one earth day away from now. Time was passing so fast, and he feared a happy ending for his friend was slipping away with it.

News of Tom's departure had reached every corner of Voyager by the next morning and there had been a buzz of energy that usually only formulated in times of great anticipation, stress, or under threats of mortal peril. Chakotay had heard so many different excuses for the pilot's departure that he was becoming frustrated by the incompetence of the grapevine system. He was well acquainted with how active imaginations could create the most absurd notions. During breakfast that first morning he had overheard a group of engineers insisting that Tom had impregnated one of the visiting delegates and had remained behind to raise his child because Janeway refused to allow him to stay on Voyager. The rumour that Tom had impregnated the Captain and was trying to escape her wrath had surpassed his patience and he had left for his bridge duty.

Over the next few days he had been approached by several members of the crew and asked why he left them. Chakotay, not wanting to say anything, had informed them that it had been Tom's decision and that it was personal. He didn't have the right to say anything else, because he truly didn't know all the reasons. It had shocked the hell out of him when Tom had resigned. It had been so…abrupt. Between the three commanding officers Kathryn had been hit the hardest by the news. It had hurt her. She hadn't been aware of anything that he been going on in the last month with Tom. She had no idea that he was still having such a difficult time with the crew. Chakotay hadn't known either, and if it hadn't been for the incident when they had been harvesting those fruits, he still would have been even less aware.

But he wasn't sure that the verbal abuse and practical jokes had been the only reason. Since discovering, unwittingly on Tom's behalf, that he had an unspeakable association with the Cardassians Chakotay had been watching Tom. When the rumours had started to travel, that he was the only surviving prisoner of Cianka Adasta, Tom had become more recluse than normal. With all the different opinions flying around Chakotay really didn't blame him. Most of the crew thought it was a publicity stunt and many had begun to resent Tom even more because of it. The arrival of the Widariats had been a relief because it had focused attentions elsewhere, and Tom had found new friends in their group. It had been the incident in the mess hall, however, when Tom had really begun to pull away. Harry, Chakotay had noticed, had been swarming over his friend even more so than usual after that. He had begun to emit this distressed energy that Chakotay noticed when working in close relation with him. With all of his duties for the ship and as a guide to their guests Chakotay hadn't made the connection until after Tom had resigned. He had been to late to notice anything, and he had been too shocked to say anything.

He largely blamed himself for the mans departure. He determined that it was the public speculation of Tom's scar that had triggered his sense of flight, and Chakotay had been the cause for its discovery in the first place. He was still ashamed for jumping to such negative and unfounded conclusions about Tom and for taking so long to see the man for who he truly was: Strong, compassionate, afraid, lost and angry. So angry. It had been just over a week since they had left him now and Chakotay had wanted to lose his temper with so many crewmembers that he feared he was becoming unfit to command through his guilt. Kathryn was no better, though she hid her feelings from the public eye as well as he did. Harry Kim was taking the brunt of the speculation, being Tom Paris's best friend and closest associate.

For the first few days he had refused to answer questions about why his friend had left, finding reasons to leave the mess hall so often that Chakotay was starting to worry he wasn't eating enough. Kes had been wonderful. She was the one Chakotay knew was talking to Harry, and rightly so. Nobody else really understood how upset this loss made him, not even Chakotay. Harry had been Tom's friend from the beginning, and he had handled the situation admirably…until this evening during dinner. Chakotay supposed he had finally heard one too many scenarios for Tom's absence that was so far from the truth it was ridiculous. Harry's flare in temper had shut Sandrine's up so fast it had been a scary rendition of when Tom had gone berserk on Bathet and Cornick. "How dare you!" He had growled at a large group in the center of the room that had come to the conclusion that Tom had blackmailed the Widariats into taking him on their planet before Janeway discovered he was making a secret deal with the Vidiian's.

"You want to know why he left? It wasn't because he became indentured to Tirzri, or that he was suddenly responsible for a child. It had nothing to do with money, power or technological advancements. He wasn't dying from a mysterious sickness, running from a broken heart, or escaping punishment for breaking the prime directive." He had glowered around the room, slamming down his ale and causing several people around him to start. "He left because of you! The Widariats came and treated him as a friend, treated him with respect, and he suddenly realized that he didn't want to put up with your petty jokes, insults and accusations anymore. He'd had enough! And I don't blame him for escaping, because I know that he deserves better than this. The shameful thing is that you know it too. I know you've all heard about Cianka Adasta now, and that you've tried to find every excuse under the sun to not believe it because you were too embarrassed to admit that maybe, just maybe, you were wrong about him." Kes had slowly approached him at that point and placed a comforting hand on his arm. "What I don't understand is how you are still pretending to not know the truth. He knew that one day you might decide that he wasn't scum after all, but he couldn't wait anymore. And now we've lost a good man because we are too blinded by our own rationality's to see the truth." He'd sighed softly, completely losing his steam. He'd turned and smiled at Kes, quietly thanking her and holding her hand briefly before leaving the silent bar.

There had been no report of his outburst to the Captain from Tuvok, himself, or any other Voyager that had been present that night, but the next morning there had been a notable change in topic at the breakfast table, and those that were being filled in on the nights out burst were being filled in quietly. Harry had appeared on bridge duty as his normal, professional, self and the last four hours had been silent. They had left Widariat space sometime during Gamma shift, and Janeway's hope that Tom might change his mind and race to catch the absurdly slow departing Voyager was crushed. They had picked up to warp five when Chakotay had started the shift; the newly appointed chief pilot Lieutenant Baytart sat stiffly in his chair. He was still trying to adapt to his elevated rank and had apparently forgotten how to relax slightly in his seat. Chakotay found himself occasionally struggling not to order him at ease.

"Commander." Harry's suddenly urgent voice seized his full attention. "Three ships have just decloaked around us." He was rapidly accessing his console, searching for answers and Chakotay leaned forward.

"Hail them."

"No response."

"Red alert, raise shields." A moment later Captain Janeway strode onto the bridge, looking for answers.

"They seem to be activating some kind of energy field similar to our own shields…"

"Maximum Warp Lieutenant. Get us out of here!" She ordered even as a dull whine was heard and the lights slowly dimmed.

"We've lost power captain. Shields, engines, and weapons are off line." Tuvok spoke up. Chakotay stood and joined her in front of their seats, he could feel his heart beat throbbing in his forehead and they gazed at the screen as a pale humanoid appeared suddenly, looking down at them through bold green eyes.

"We are commandeering your ship. Do not resist us and you will not be hurt."

Tom was lying on his back underneath the landing apparatus of a Mask'in class 1 shuttle, Maki'naj's shoulder brushed his own every time one of them shifted for a better look.

"You know, we have engineers for this." Maki'naj pointed out, grunting as he tried to seal a tiban tube, there was a florescent orange jelly oozing down his right arm.

"I know." Tom answered, holding the tube in place and trying to hide a grin.

"You have a strange idea of fun, if this is what makes you happy." His feathery friend grunted, shifting for a better angle.

"There is nothing better than getting your hands dirty while tinkering around in advanced machinery and getting covered in glowing lubricant. Tell me you'd rather be going over those specs again."

"I would rather be going over those specs again." His friend grunted and, not so subtly, elbowed him in the side.

"Okay, okay. I get the point. You don't like doing actual work." Maki'naj chuckled and squirmed out from underneath their project. Tom followed and accepted the proffered hand that pulled him up. He almost slid out of the grip due to the lubricant but smoothly made it to his feet just in time.

"I have no problem doing maintenance work, I simply dislike lying under the belly of a three ton shuttle with an impaired landing prop."

"Well, when you put it like that…" Tom was distracted by the sudden quick scuffling of feet heading towards them and didn't finish his sentence. The group stopped when they reached them and Tom noticed Maki'naj's frown as the being pulled off his hood. His deep blue feathers stood out in slight alarm.

"What is wrong? Did the test run on the Koma'ro run poorly? Is Tahl'at all right?" Mana'ri shook his head to forestall further questions.

"The run went smooth and Tahl'at is fine. I'm afraid we have come with bad news Tom." Tom raised his eyebrows, startled. The only thing that would directly involve him would be Tirzri'wa, and he was standing next to Mana'ri with a grim expression on his face. Tom frowned, were they removing him from the program? What had he done wrong now?

"We need to go to the meeting room to discuss this. There is no reason in upsetting others around us." Tom had noticed that several beings were looking towards them in slight concern. They were no doubt picking up on the distressed emotions coming from his friends. He nodded and the four of them hurried across the substantial hangar and quietly entered the room with the large glass window.

"What's going on?" He demanded, looking between them. Tirzri'wa met his eyes and Tom didn't need to be a telepath to see his worry.

"A scout ship on the perimeter has just reported in with news of your Voyagers." Tom felt a sudden heaviness in his chest as he digested the news. News of Voyager coming from such worried beings could not be good. He immediately began imagining his old crewmembers lying on cold, stainless tables with organs missing as Vidiian doctors wearing their faces looked down on them. Another image of Voyager being vaporized by some evil alien army and left as nothing more then dust particles with the occasional frozen body part floating through space to mark their existence. His fears must have been clear on his features because Tirzri'wa stepped abruptly up to him and grasped both his shoulders.

"They are not dead Tom, and Voyager has not been destroyed. Understand?" Tom tried to banish the horrific images from his mind, but the fear lingered deep in his stomach.

"What happened?" He demanded, not noticing the steely tone that entered his voice and the way he suddenly stood taller in a manner that demanded answers.

"A group called the Trigan has taken them. They are a pirating race. They have been known to abduct ships before but never so close to our border." Mana'ri activated a diagram from the middle of the only table in the room and the four of them stood around it. Tom instantly saw where Widaria stood in comparison to the border of their territory, and noted a path marked by a red line, that must have represented Voyager, leading away from the planet.

"Here." Tirzri'wa pointed at where the line ended, just past a green border marking. "Early this morning they crossed out of our region. Six standard earth hours later they were ambushed and taken prisoner by three Trigan hunting ships. Our scout tells us they had cloaking technology and appeared suddenly. They cast a force net around your crew and drained the ship of most of its energies. That was four earth hours ago."

"What were they doing so close to the border?" Tom asked, his eyes studying the map carefully. "They should have crossed over days ago."

"Captain Janeway informed me that they would be taking their time to leave our space. She wanted a few extra days to relax." Tirzri'wa replied and Tom understood exactly what that meant. She had been hoping Tom might try and catch up to them. It was his fault they were in this position now. If they hadn't been so slow to leave the system, the Trigan might not have picked up on their presence. Instead they had spotted them and had ample time to prepare an ambush. Tom's hands clenched into fists, unaware of how the nails began to dig into his flesh.

"Tell me about the Trigan."

"We do not consort with them. Centuries ago we made a pact to not dwell into their space and they do not enter into ours. They gain their technologies by stealing from others, for they do not adequately train themselves in how to develop their own. They find being predators more beneficial than succeeding themselves." There was bitterness in Mana'ri's voice that spoke of long time disgust. "They are a race that will only do themselves damage in the end. I fear that they will eventually sell your crew off as slaves on their home world; they will be forced to work in the repair depots or the harvesting fields. Your ship will be added to their fleet."

"We need to help them." The course of action was obvious to him. There was no way that he would let Harry, Janeway, Kes or any of the others become prisoners for the rest of their lives. It was unspeakable. But as soon as the words left his mouth he knew that there was a grave problem with his proposal. He looked at his three friends and saw that they too recognized the problem. "But you have a pact with these Trigan." He deflated slightly, his chest feeling tighter with every second that passed.

"It is true Tom, and we cannot go against our word. This pact is what keeps our people away from war with theirs, and you know we are a non-violent race." Tom nodded in regretful understanding. He would not ask them to jeopardize their entire races security for the sake of his crew; it was selfish to even think that. The Widariat's had done nothing but help him and Voyager. They had repaired the ship, provided them with outstanding supplies and had never asked for anything in return. They had been a gift. To even consider inflicting his need to help his own people on them was immoral. They didn't even have weapons of which to defend themselves if the Trigan attacked. Not one of their ships had deadly defenses of any kind. The Widariat's relied on cloaking technology and speed as their defense, but even then, they never had needed to use it. What was he going to do?

"Tom listen to us." Tirzri'wa asked quietly and he looked up from the suspended map. "We have spoken to the high council and they have agreed that we must help in some way. Your people were kind and generous, a gracious crew that we will not soon forget. We cannot help you by fighting, but we can give you means to help them yourself."

"What do you mean?" Tom asked, gazing intently at Tirzri'wa.

"A ship Tom. We can give you a ship. What you do to help them will be up to you, but we can give you a ship."

"This won't damage your relationship with the Trigan?" A flicker of hope tickled his stomach but he was careful not to announce it in his voice. He needed to be calm if he was going to help his old crew.

"They will not know it is of Widariat design if you initiate a rescue correctly. The Kria'dar has not yet been flown without a cloak. They do not know of its existence." Tom raised his eyebrows and Maki'naj scoffed lightly.

"Despite our lack of weaponry and our pact, we do not fully trust the Trigan. It would be foolish to not have technology that they are unaware of."

"We are giving you, Tom, the Kria'dar, so that you can help your people if you choose." Somewhere, deep in his core, Tom knew he was shocked beyond all speech, and that one day he would be able to express exactly how deeply this gesture affected him. For now though, he had a very serious situation on his hands. If Voyager had been taken four hours ago, then that meant it might take five Days for Tom to catch up to the Trigan who had imprisoned them. He had no time to waste, and he knew that his friends understood this.

"Please, show me to her."


	12. Chapter 12

Okay, I DID make you wait another year! How horrible is that! Again I forgot the story and plot and everything, and I thought WHAT! I will NEVER leave a story unfinished! I think I said as much a few chapters ago, and I'm keeping my word Damn it!

So here is another chapter with two more to come! They are finished, I just need to do my usual crappy editing job. I do apologize (again, this is getting a bit routine isn't is ;) for the length of time this has taken! But more importantly I apologize for inconsistencies, grammar mishaps and…everything else that I should apologize for. INCLUDING the TITLE! I happen to feel it is no longer appropriate considering the way this story has _actuall_y turned out, but I'm not going to change it for confusions sake. When I say I had no idea where this story was going, I meant it. I hope you like it, and I PROMIS (for real this time!) that it will be completely posted by the end of the week! And by that I mean no later then Saturday.

THANK YOU for sticking with me on this! You are all wonderful and each one of you that have placed this fic on your favourites list, as well as the author alert list, flatter me greatly. It was your continuing comments and support that reminded me to finish this!

Now, go enjoy!

**Chapter 12**

Tirzri'wa had disappeared as they had taken a bubble shuttle to a different hangar. There was nothing that they could discuss about his ship until they arrived and he saw it first hand. What Maki'naj and Mana'ri did insist on speaking of, were ways in which Tom could possibly infiltrate the Trigan defenses. It quickly became apparent that the Widariat scouts who patrolled the border were not common knowledge to those outside the Widariats defensive or spatial programs. Their secretive posts and above standard scanning devices had been feeding information about the Trigan technology for years. Mana'ri was positive that, because the Trigan used such a wide assortment of different technologies on their ships, it shouldn't be too difficult to gain access to them.

"Sloppy, undisciplined and unenlightened. That is how they are. We are not in position to truly judge why they choose to be this way, for their reasons are their own. It does not mean that we accept it. The path they follow is negative, and it will lead to their own undoing in the end. Until such time occurs, however, we cannot and will not interfere in their development." The bitterness was tinged with sadness as Mana'ri spoke, but Tom didn't really worry about why these Trigan did what they did. They had Voyager, and Tom was going to get it back.

The bubble doors slid open, indicating that they had arrived and Tom followed his companions out of the door. They were facing a window that looked outside onto a forest. In the distance a shuttle was departing into space, and closer flew a small flock of fluttering mice-like animals.

"The Kria'dar." Mana'ri announced and Tom turned to look behind him. For a brief moment he couldn't breathe, then feeling how slack his jaw had become he regained dexterity and quickly shut it. "Almost as maneuverable in planetary atmosphere as it is in space." He informed Tom proudly. Tom hadn't reached a responsive level yet as he rapidly glanced from one end to the other of the vehicle. It was stunning, powerful, sleek and absolutely beautiful. It looked to be about fifty meters in length, fifteen high, and its widest part looked about twenty. Its frame was almost like an elongated oval, the nose rounded out to a point that looked both threatening and approachable. A quarter way in from the nose began the smooth protrusion of the wing. It curved outward from the body until it was over three meters in width and height. There was no doubt that at its end was the nacelle thruster, and that there was an exact copy on the other side of the ship. There was also one coming from the top of the ship, like a dorsal fin, but it only reached out a meter and the nacelle was one third of the size of the main thruster.

"There are five ways onto…her," Maki'naj said, picking up on Tom's earlier implication that the ship was female. "Under the starboard nacelle is a hidden access hatch, meant for only one or two people to use at a time. Under her belly near the front is one of two cargo holds; this is the only one accessible outside of the ship. At the back, again under the belly, is a shuttle bay, with one fully operational Sirt'ak shuttle and room for three others if they are parked closely. Try not to break the Sirt'ak." Tom laughed, still not really sure of what else to say as he listened to the quick briefing. "There is, of course, a transport system almost identical to the one on Voyager, though it is modified slightly. You will understand what I mean later. Lastly, the ventilation and waste disposal systems open through the ships hull. There are no other ways in unless, for some unspeakable reason, you tear away her hull."

"Are you sure this is the ship you want to give me?" Tom had to ask, well aware that he was still staring stupidly but not overly concerned about how he appeared.

"Do you think you require something larger?" Mana'ri asked, uncertainly.

"No, no…it's absolutely perfect. I wasn't expecting a ship even close to this magnitude…I have no clue how I can begin thanking you."

"No need for thanks." He replied briskly, as though Tom's reaction was all he needed to feel proud about their gift. "Now, we decided on this ship because it is big enough to hold a crew compliment of no more then eight beings, but with the advanced AI it can be easily manned by only yourself. If you would join me at the cargo hatch I'll have the ship begin acknowledging you as its captain." Tom followed quickly, not taking his eyes off the hull. Its bronze-gold plating seemed to glow in the sunlight filtering through the force-ceiling. The areas where the alloy joined all across the hull was attached so closely together it was difficulty to see where one sheet of alloy began and the other ended.

"You've noticed that there is just enough room for expansion between the alloy. That was my idea." Maki'naj stated proudly. "I hate gaps, they take away from how a hull should flow together." They stopped beside a panel slightly redder than the surrounding hull. "Place your hand there." Tom did as he was told and felt it instantly warm to an almost painful hot before cooling down. "DNA sample. That is not how you access the ship, it is simply an identification panel." Mana'ri had began tapping on the panel in what looked like a specific sequence, explaining that Tom's eyes would be adapted to read it before he left, and the cargo hold opened, lowering its large door to the ground like a ramp. They walked inside the large, empty area, Tom staring around. It wasn't enormous, but its ceiling became higher the further away from the nose of the vehicle it became. It would be able to hold fifty people comfortably.

"Right above here is the command center." Mana'ri stated and then, with nothing but a sudden chill that evaporated as soon as it came, Tom found himself staring around the highly efficient command center. He walked straight to the front middle, where the pilot would sit. The console was expansive and, from what he had learned of Widariat technology, it encompassed, sensors, environmental, transport, communications and access to all other necessary controls. There was walking space in front of the station that ended at a view screen that encompassed the entire wall. Right now, only a rectangle chunk in the middle was operational, and it was showing several hover vehicles approaching the ship. Before Tom could ask about them, Mana'ri began explaining the specifics of the AI and they began to turn full control of the ship over to Toms' command.

Three hours after Tom had first set foot on the ship, he had left Widaria. His need to help Harry, the Captain and everyone else had warred with his need to say a proper goodbye to his new friends. In the end, however, it had come down to time, and Tom couldn't waste anymore. Tirzri'wa had appeared one hour before he was ready to leave, and said that he had placed Tom's personal items in his room, and informed him that some volunteers were loading supplies into the cargo holds. When it came time to leave Tom had been at a loss for words. Mana'ri and Maki'naj had lost their jovial humour, wishing him the best of luck in such a dark time. They shared brief hugs and the two had left with heavy feet. Tom hadn't known them as well as he would have liked, and he knew that if he had stayed on Widaria, they would have been good friends. He knew he could never see them again. By leaving to free his old crew, returning to Widaria would place their planet in danger. He could never return. He looked at Tirzri'wa.

"Captain Tom" They grinned and Tom shook his head. He was a captain now. This ship was his. His entire life he had envisioned himself only becoming a Captain through years of hard work and sacrifice in Starfleet. Once he'd been discharged he had known it was possible to get a ship of his own, but the currency he needed wasn't his and he was not willing to stoop to the level of smugglers, dealers, or worse, to get the money. This was a gift that he may deserve or he may in fact not deserve, but he was beyond thrilled about it. However, there was a dark reason for his new title, and he feared he wouldn't be able to set things right. "I know you will be successful in freeing your people."

"There's really no other option." Tom replied darkly, and then felt guilty for bringing such negativity to their final parting. Tirzri'wa had helped him so much over the last few weeks, and had never asked for anything in return. Tom was still waiting for demands from him, a request for something to repay him and his people for their kindness. The demands never came. Instead, Tirzri'wa pressed a data chip into his hand.

"This is a degradable AI, you may find it useful in your struggle ahead. I am sorry to see you go, but I know that in the end you will find the peace you are searching for. Your friend Harry will continue to be there for you and, I think, others will want to help as well, so long as you let them." Tom pulled his feathered friend into a tight hug, trying to express his gratitude for everything in the one action, like he had with Harry before he left Voyager. "Do what you know is right Tom."

"Thank you Tirzri'wa. I have nothing to offer you but my thanks."

"That is enough for me. Now, you better get going. You can explore your ship in a few hours, once you are clear of our planet. Take care of yourself Tom." And there really hadn't been anything else to say. Tirzri'wa left the ship and joined Maki'naj and Mana'ri at a safe distance. Tom cloaked his ship, the force-ceiling above him disappeared, and Tom was soaring out of the hangar, past the exosphere and was gone after he jumped to warp nine. He remained in his command chair scouring over his controls and trying to learn everything he could. He had five days to become acquainted with exactly what his ship could do, and to become accustomed to giving orders to his AI whenever he needed to.

The last four days had been stressful to the hilt, and the only way he had found to relieve this tension that had built up within his body, was to pace the length of his cell. Five steps in all directions. He could have walked the perimeter of the tiny enclosure, but then he would have dislodged his fellow captives from their resting places. After another few rounds he sat himself down in an empty space, beside Janeway and Ayala, and Gilbert immediately stood and continued in Chakotay's invisible footsteps. It had become a sort of joke among the cell; who would get to pace next. It was a very dry joke but at least it helped pass the time. There were six in his cell altogether, Jenny Delaney and Debra Koslowski rounded out the number and he checked briefly on their sleeping forms in one corner. In the cell to their right were Harry Kim, Collin Crasby, Gerron Tem, Kenneth Dalby, Sheltie Darrin and Candice Barnaine. On their left were Joe Carey, Samantha Wildman, Dana Ronzia, Tahla Greeken, Gerald Bathet and Vorik.

Interestingly enough the Trigan had approximately twenty-five cells lining the walls of a large circular cargo bay, these cells were separated by force fields and not much more. However, Chakotay could only see into the cell on either side of his own, and not the cells beyond that. They had discovered this was the case for everyone through hand signals and lip reading, because sound did not travel through these fields. Chakotay had seen a few prisons from several species and he had never encountered anything so…oddly designed. With almost six Voyager crewmembers in every cell he could see just over half of the crew. Almost directly across from them were B'Elanna and Tuvok. Kes and Neelix had been separated and Chakotay could see only Neelix on the very corner of his range of vision. In the center of the room stood a guard, and she, along with every other guard that had served post in this containment area, had been extremely bored. They had stopped trying to aggravate his crew after the second day, apparently determining that they were the most unentertaining group they had had in a long time.

Chakotay watched Gilbert pacing back and forth for a few minutes and then looked next door to Harry, who was speaking with Bernaine and Crosby, no doubt trying to keep their minds off of their captivity…at least as much as was possible. His black hair had lost its bounce a few days before and needed washing to get rid of the oil that now flattened it. While there were sinks and waste units in every cell (and none were shielded for privacy) only basic baths were occurring to control smell and hygiene. Chakotay's back ached as he leaned against the metal wall at the back of their cell and he watched Harry work his calming magic. Bernaine was slightly claustrophobic and had had a panic attack their second day in captivity. Crasby had never been incarcerated in any form and hadn't handled it to well. Chakotay was relieved that nobody in his cell needed calming, but he figured a part of that reason was because nobody wanted to lose control right under the noses of the captain and the first officer.

The entire crew was dealing with this disaster in their own way. Some panicked, which was to be expected because only a handful of Voyager's crew had ever experienced incarceration, let alone imprisonment for this length of time. Having their ship overrun by Seska and the Kazon, and then being left on a volcanic planet to fend for themselves was still very different from actual confinement. Some of the crew slept a lot while others told stories and histories to pass the time. If Chakotay was correct in his assumptions, then Harry was teaching his cellmates the basics of the Vulcan language. Chakotay had known that Harry, being the communications officer, knew Vulcan almost fluently, along with Bajorin and earths Spanish language. If anything at least Harry was getting some practice at these various tongues, because on Voyager he always spoke standard. Chakotay was drawn back to the guard sitting alone in the center of their circular prison. She started walking around the room, gazing with disinterest into each cell she passed. When she reached his cell he felt her gaze linger in interest on his tattoo a moment before moving on. Directly across the large expanse he saw B'Elanna and Tuvok hurriedly hiding the SIF disrupter they were slowly constructing. By the time the guard had reached their cell she was loosing interest and glanced very briefly inside. As the pale Trigan returned to her spot in the center of the dull room Chakotay relaxed and gave his left should a quick one-handed massage.

The Trigan had boarded Voyager instantly after they had informed the crew of their plans. Only security personnel had weapons and they had been disarmed with an alarming speed that spoke of great experience in abduction. However, it had become instantly apparent that the Trigan attack had been well planned which, while placing Voyager in a very dangerous position, also worked to their benefit. The Trigan had done thorough searches of every crewman's person before beaming them into their cells in groups, but they had also been elated by their victory and rushed through the searches. The result had been various people carrying various small items and tools as they were beamed into the Trigan holding cells. It was with great glee and hope that Voyager realized this group of pirates was incompetent in containing prisoners within completely secure environments.

Every meal they pulled two crewmembers from their cell, roughly, and had them deliver food to each cell so that the guards themselves didn't have to. The guard compliment increased to four at these times, but it was apparent they didn't think the crew would try anything. Docile is the image of the week and every member of the crew, once imprisoned, had appeared to become the perfect prisoners. They didn't ask for anything, they didn't fight, and they weren't making any apparent attempts to escape from this situation. An easy group to take care of, and the guard had grown even more confident as the days passed. This morning B'Elanna had received the last of the concealed tools with her breakfast and together with Tuvok they were creating a device to, hopefully, disrupt the force fields. The prison was assembled in a way that gave the impression of the integration of various ships. The floor, ceiling and wall were multi-coloured grays and, while assembled in a clean and competent manner, told Chakotay, and many of the crew, that there would no doubt be faults within the ships structure. B'Elanna found the first, and that was that the molybedum-jacketed triphase wavguides that activated and controlled the forcfield of their prison, were relatively unprotected. The Trigan were working on the assumption that their prisoners wouldn't have any tools to disrupt the system. They were wrong.

It was difficult business though, hiding this from the guard, because there was really no place to hide it. B'Elanna and Tuvok worked when the guards had their backs turned to the cell, but that was sporadic and allowed for only seconds and, if lucky, minutes at a time to put the tool together. Earlier, about three hours ago by Chakotay's guess, B'Elanna sent a message that it should be ready by next lunch. That was approximately a day away. Janeway was thrilled with the effort but Chakotay could see how worried she was. Time was ticking away and Chakotay knew that they could reach wherever they were being taken at any moment. If they were removed from the cell before the tool was finished...it was a dire situation and there was nobody coming to get them out of this. The one thing Chakotay was grateful for was that Tom wasn't here with them. He'd seen enough of the insides of prisons, and his not being there meant that at least one of them would escape this fate. There was also the tiny, most miniscule hope that Tom would, in some miraculous way, come and find them missing, and get them help. It was a far fetched hope, but Chakotay couldn't stop it from entering his mind. He knew without a doubt the thought had entered Janeway and Ayala's mind, but they too were not holding any true hope for that scenario.

He glanced at Harry again and sighed quietly. The young man was dealing with this situation in a way that showed he had done it before. Being on the senior staff was perhaps one of the most dangerous positions on Voyager, because they were the ones that always got into trouble first. He wondered if Harry thought about Tom while he sat there in his cell, calming his shipmates. Chakotay wondered if the ensign was imagining his best friend sitting alone in a dank, dark hole in the ground waiting for his guards to drag him out for interrogation with absolutely no hope of survival. He wondered if Tom's survival of that horrific place, where such unspeakable acts occurred, gave Harry hope of his own survival of this place. It had been a picnic for them so far, but Chakotay knew, deep down, that it would not last. There was a sinister aura around the Trigan that guarded them, and their stunning green eyes occasionally gazed at the prisoners, like they were searching for their first victim.

Gilbert stopped pacing and Janeway stood swiftly to take his place. Chakotay heard her knees pop at the movement and felt her arm brush against his as she moved. Her steps were the most agitated steps of them all.

Sleeping was something Tom hadn't been good at for as long as he remembered. He'd spent long nights in his childhood unable to shut down his mind, unable to just stop thinking. Those nights had progressed into study sessions, into his hidden hobbies (such as building model ships), and into finding ways of sneaking, undetected, out of his home. After Caldik Prime sleep had been his escape, and he had fallen into coma like nights in order to forget what had happened. Then, after one month of this, he woke up and couldn't fall back under its gift of oblivion. After Starfleet there had really been no time to sleep, because he had been taken from his room on a cargo hold flying to Deep Space Nine. The Cardassian's did their best to not let him truly sleep and he learned to rest in a series of short power naps. On Voyager he managed a few hours a night. Now, on his Kria'dar, sleep was once again proving elusive. This, however, did not bother him as much as it otherwise might have; because he had precious little time to become acquainted with his ship in order to properly engage an enemy.

In one days time he would be upon the Trigan, and he would be infiltrating an alien network of spacecraft, regaining control of Voyager, boarding the Trigan's vessel that held his old crew, hopefully leaving with each and every one of them, and burning a new star system as they hightailed it away from these pirates. Suddenly feeling completely sapped of strength he leaned back in his chair and stared, unseeing, out at the stars zooming by him. What the hell was he doing? He was one person, flying one ship, with one AI, with no exterior (or interior for that matter) weapons. He groaned and brought his hands to his face where he roughly rubbed his fingers down from forehead to neck. He stank, his sweat from the past four days had saturated his clothing and he hadn't bothered to change. He felt dirty and useless sitting here while his crew were going through God knows what while his experienced mind and colourful imagination was providing all sorts of scenarios that had, several times, sent him to the toilet to throw up what little he had managed to eat.

"I'm a mess." He muttered out loud and jumped violently when a serious female voice answered him.

"Yes, you are. You need to bathe, eat and rest and you need to do it in that order." It was Anj'azi, Tirzri'wa's partner's voice. It had been her gift to him as Tirzri'wa's letter, which Tom had found after leaving Widaria, informed him. He pictured her whenever he heard it, and he wondered if her kind voice and warm face would always appear so easily in his mind as the months passed by.

"Why don't you tell me what you really think." He grumbled.

"I did." He couldn't help smiling at this and, with an effort, he pushed himself out of the chair and moved through one of the doors at the side of his bridge.

"All right Anj'azi, I'm going. Keep an eye on the sensors and adjust course as necessary. If anything unusual comes up then holler my way."

"I will inform you of any important occurrences." She sounded slightly exasperated, and he assumed it was because he was asking her to perform tasks she would normally perform without instruction. He made a note not to do that in the future, because an irritated AI could turn his shower from hot to cold in an instant.

He'd called her Anj'azi for two reasons, the first being that since Anj'azi had given the use of her voice he assumed she wouldn't mind if he used her name as well. The second was because, on Widaria, Anj'azi roughly meant grace, power and peace. He figured he could use all three on any given day. Naming the Kria'dar was another matter entirely and had yet to occur. However, at the moment his ship would remain nameless, because with the way he was feeling he knew it would end up something horrible and angry…like Dreadnaught, The Vengeance, or even Leola. Though Neelix might like the last name Tom had no desire to taint his ship with negativity. The name would come to him one day; he just had to be patient.

There were two entrances onto the bridge. One led to a comfortable conference and planning room (which also entered into a corridor), and from there to Tom's private quarters. The main room was what he called his living room. It was a relatively large space with a large viewing window on one wall. Tom had stumbled into this room in search of a waste receptacle four hours after leaving Widaria and he had stopped dead in shock. It was fully furnished. This was what Tirzri'wa had been doing while Tom had been introduced to his ship and had been learning how to operate her. His friend had apparently found some volunteers (it wasn't until the next day Tom had realized exactly how many volunteers Tirzri'wa had found) who had found and installed almost everything in his new home. This room, however, was his favourite. There was an extremely comfortable couch made from wood and secured to the floor with powerful magnets installed in the legs. Tom found he could deactivate these magnets if he wanted to move the couch, but for now he was happy where it was. There were a few comfortable lounging chairs around the room as well as a beautiful coffee table. Its base was hand carved from a deep coloured wood that matched the couch and chairs, and a nearly unbreakable glass top.

One corner of the room had a series of shelves built into it on which there were various books of Widaria that illustrated the beautiful planet and its people as well as a book to teach Tom their language. He would find this useful in the future, because he would need to know it fluently to fully understand his ship. Currently everything was in English, but seeing as it wasn't built for Federation standard they had all determined it would only last about a year or so before the Widarian language reinserted itself as the dominant lingo. Sitting on one of the middle shelves was a photo of Tirzri'wa and his family, smiling and waving happily at him. Occasionally one of his children would become bored and do something unexpected such as pull the others hair, which would result in a silent scolding from one of their parents. Every now and then Mana'ri and Maki'naj would wander in for a visit. It was quite the advanced little holograph. Of course, in the event that Tom was unsuccessful with his rescue attempt and the Trigan gained access to his ship, Anj'azi was instructed to take anything that could link this ship to the Widariats and transport it off ship into a billion particles. And, of course, if Tom didn't come back to his ship within five months of leaving it then it would destruct its mainframe and permanently delete the well hidden Widariat coding. If Anj'azi felt any hostiles were getting too close to discovering her true origin, she would also terminate her mainframe and herself. Tom had decided that this was the safest way to protect his friends, and his ship had agreed.

What had immediately caught Tom's attention about the room, however, had been the vegetation that was littered throughout the entire space. Hanging from the high ceiling were pots overflowing with leaves and vines. There were several large potted tree-like plants in the corners and along the walls, and there where more plants sitting securely on wall shelves. It had been breath taking. The only place Tom had ever seen so many plants had been at his aunt's home back in San Francisco and in Voyager's Hydroponics bay. A note had been left indicating that each plant required very little care and were mature, so they would not grow any more. Quite a few would flower but all had different seasons so there would be different colours throughout the year. Right now it was a purple-red blossom hanging from three of the many ceiling baskets. Surprisingly it was organized in a way that still left plenty of room to move and give the impression of a lot of space. When Tom had tried to rest in these last few days, it had been on the couch in this room.

Entering through there into his kitchen dining area, which also looked out upon the stars, Tom had been shocked again to find a fully stocked kitchen. It included a cooking surface and a cooking box, a small fridge, and a cleaning corner. A replicator and drink dispenser sat tucked in the wall beside the fridge and there were cupboards filled with an assortment of cooking, eating and drinking utensils. The counter of the kitchen was shaped like an L and tucked into one corner. There was another large, hand carved glass dining table that was surrounded by six very comfortable wood chairs. Tom had never seen so much wood on a starship before; it was the complete opposite of Voyager and gave the impression of an extremely warm, yet efficient atmosphere. The bathroom branched off from the kitchen and contained all the basics he was used to, as well as a large bathing tub set against one wall. There were two more doors, one leading into the corridor and the other leading to his room. It had been decorated with light colours, which made it appear large and happy. An assortment of rich reds, creams and pale yellows and blues were scattered through out, making up his bed and walls in colour. One entire wall slid into the ceiling in three sections to reveal a storage area for his clothing behind. It was half full, and Tom had only brought four pairs of clothing with him. The Widariats had made clothing for him based on his own cultures standards and some on their own. He had been so touched that he'd had to turn away or he was afraid he'd start to cry. This was not a time for tears.

He'd later discovered his main cargo bay, the one leading off ship, was full of supplies for himself and for Voyager, just incase they needed some to get back on the road. The smaller storage space was empty and had a mezzanine encircling. There was a stair case leading up to it from the ground level and a door leading to another hall both up there and on ground level. This ship was a maze and, Tom had delightedly discovered, there were unmarked doors that looked like nothing but another chunk of wall. Tom decided that, if he got the chance, he would turn this cargo hold into a gym and recreation room. It was big enough for a variety of sports, and without a holodeck he would need some form of entertainment.

There were also seven other rooms, all for the crew that he did not have. The second largest one had been converted into a hydroponics bay and had been filled with a large variety of fruits and vegetables that were bred for quick growth within space environments. They should last, if properly cared for, as long as the ship will…that could be a very, very long time. One room was turned into a spare conference room and library; all Tom needed was some books to fill the shelves. He only had twelve paperback novels to fill the space and he doubted there was a bookstore nearby. Still, it was a nice thought. The second largest room remained a spare bedroom and came with a fully furnished washroom of its own. The other two rooms were fully furnished as guest quarters and, while having their own toilet and sink, they shared a shower room. Tom would learn later that the conference room's table could in fact flip over and become a comfortable bed in case he needed more space. The bed was large enough to fit two people comfortably.

Tom had a quick bath, allowing himself to try and sooth his tense muscles in hot water until he felt an unnecessary guilt that none of his old crew could relax this way now and he shouldn't be either. The scrubbed clean and dressed in fresh clothes. He shaved and decided to forego officially brushing his hair and settled for a finger brush. It wasn't all that long anyway and nobody was here to see it messed up. He ate toast and drank what must have been at least a liter of water. He was forgetting to stay hydrated and it was giving him seriously distracting headaches. He had just sat down on his couch and closed his eyes when Anj'azi interrupted him. He was on his feet and heading to the bridge before she'd finished saying his name.

"Tom, we have picked up the Trigan ship cluster on the long range sensors. Voyager is with them but the crew is on board a Trigan vessel, as we predicted." He had insisted she call him Tom instead of captain since no one else was around to hear the unofficial title. He felt more comfortable that way.

"How long until we catch up?"

"Four hours and thirty-two minutes at present speed. They have come to a full stop and have, apparently, been waiting there for the past thirty minutes." He stared at his readings, confirming her statements and beginning to run calculations through his head. He was going to assume that they were waiting for another ship or ships to join them, and when that happened he was going to be on a whole new level of difficulty when it came to getting his crew back. He hoped that they weren't going to arrive until then, but he had to factor that possibility in. Shit, he hadn't foreseen this. He straightened from his bent position over his main console and headed to his briefing room.

"Anj'azi, I need you to look for the ships they're meeting and let me know the second they come into range." He walked to his large, round briefing table. "Activate Trigan cluster blueprints." A detailed holographic blue print appeared in the center of the table. "Enlarge. Activate schematic of Voyager. Enlarge. Activate blue print of a single Trigan vessel like the ones they are flying and locate holding cells large enough to compliment Voyagers crew. Locate vessel holding the crew of the first diagram." The images blinked into existence immediately and spread in an organized line across the table. Tom stared intently at them. He had a plan, but the ships had been moving in his plan. Now he needed to alter it and come up with a third back up plan incase they had extra visitors dropping by. He quashed his anxiety and ignored his fears for his crew. In order to make this work he needed to focus. He would get them out of there, or he would die trying.

Hey, like that last line there? I know, I know; it's cheesy…but I really couldn't resist 


	13. Chapter 13

He hadn't truly feared death for a long time now, not since his shuttle crash in Starfleet. In fact, back then he had almost decided to follow his friends to wherever it was they had gone. The guilt he felt had almost destroyed him, but the guilt he felt for thinking about ending his life, when they had so brutally lost theirs, forced him to go on. He made a deal with them that he would survive no matter what, to honour them. One day he would join them; he didn't need to rush to get there, despite how he sometimes craved its promised ending. The Cardassian's had not granted it, not for him, and he had begged then. After that place, he added a few more names to the list of reasons that forced him to survive. Life hadn't been that bad since then. He had found a best friend, and that had been something he never thought he would ever find again. He had been given a chance to truly fly again. He had been given a rank and a shit load of responsibility for people that didn't give a damn about him, but life hadn't been that bad. There had even been a few moments when he had almost fallen out of his chair laughing at his friend's jokes…or the jokes he played on his friends. He had felt most alive in those moments, despite everything, and he sometimes hated himself for feeling that way.

Yet, he still didn't really fear death. He was curious as hell about it, and sometimes he would lie awake in his quarters and wonder exactly where all his friends were right then. Were their souls flying around somewhere in heaven or in a Utopia of their own making? Were they following Tom around as invisible forces and watching how he was doing? Did they simply cease to exist all together or do they come back as a new soul in a completely new body. Tom wouldn't mind being an eagle if he came back as an animal, or maybe a jungle cat of some kind. He had decided, though, that he probably deserved a short life as a creature that had no worries other than survival; that had no responsibilities to others. So, having spent time in his life craving death, begging for death, and being curious about death he determined that in the end it would be quite ridiculous for himself to fear it. No, he didn't fear death for himself, what he feared was that death could take others, and he had been responsible for too much of it in this life.

"Tom." Anj'azi's quiet voice gently interrupted his thoughts and he abruptly looked away from the mirror, where he had been staring at himself for the last ten minutes. "You need to get ready." He looked back at the mirror and met his worried blue eyes. He stared a moment, until the worry slipped into determination and there was no sign of weakness left. He straightened his back, squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. It was time to get to work.

He went to his closet and pulled out a pair of black pants and a black t-shirt. The pants had several deep pockets traveling up both legs and he would need these pockets later. He probably should have gone for dark gray clothing to try and blend in more with the Trigan ship interior, but there was something traditionally comforting with black. Besides, if the Trigan saw him, regardless of whether he was wearing black or gray, they would instantly recognize him as an intruder. Maybe seeing a person dressed in solid black suddenly looming up on them would give him the element of surprise, but hopefully he wouldn't come across any Trigan at all.

Into the upper pockets on his pants he slipped the degradable AI Tirzri'wa had given him, along with a nice collection of small, yet well-balanced, darts. He'd managed to convince the replicator that darts belonged to a game and were only dangerous in the wrong hands…he'd tipped them generously with a tranquilizer. His replicator's couldn't create any proper weapons for him, not even a tazer. He'd need to get to Voyager first if he wanted to gain access to any form of phaser, and that wasn't going to work. With Voyager already being in the custody of these pirates for several days it was without a doubt that they had began scavenging the ship. This meant they had likely taken all hand held weapons and relocated them from the weapons locker to a different area, maybe even off ship. Tom couldn't get onto Voyager and waste time wandering around searching for the weapons, especially considering that there were Trigan everywhere on the ship. Anj'azi had taken scans that showed the Trigan were even in the Jeffries tubes, crawling around like overgrown rats. Infiltrating Voyager in any manner would be a dangerous waste of time. Though, when he took a moment to acknowledge his plan of infiltrating the Trigan ships, the enemies turf full of officers marching around carrying charged weapons, entering Voyager didn't seem like such a bad idea. Too bad his shipmates weren't on Voyager.

In his lower pockets he slipped some lengths of strong but thin rope, just in case he might want some. Adding a few more choice items he headed towards his transporter room. Anj'azi was currently sidling up beside the Trigan vessel that contained his crew, her cloaking device keeping their presence a secret. In the center of the cluster of ships sat Voyager, no longer held hostage by the containment shields the Trigan had initially trapped them in. In obtaining their prize and not fearing any reprisal from mysterious invisible ships, the cluster of ships had conveniently dropped their perimeter shields. If they hadn't done this Tom wouldn't have had much of an idea of how to infiltrate them. Thank god for small favours and, as Mana'ri had said, for "sloppy and undisciplined" pirates. If it hadn't been for the element of surprise and the electro plasma disruption shield the Trigan had, they would never have been able to leach Voyagers EPS power and effectively shut her down, and therefore wouldn't have had a chance of capturing her crew.

"Pirates." Tom muttered as he stepped onto the transport pad. He could have transported from anywhere on this vessel, but being here allowed him a moment to fully comprehend that he was about to leave his ship. He glanced at the holster around his waist that held his metal retractable staff. It had been a gift from Mana'ri, and while Tom wasn't nearly as proficient with a staff weapon as some that he had fought with, he wasn't all that bad. At the moment the rod was only thirty-five centimeters long, but when activated it stretched to a meter and a half. He had no idea if it would help, but it was better than practically nothing.

"Wish me luck." He spoke dryly to the air and his AI obediently told him to break a leg. He'd been telling her too much about earth phrases in these last few days. He waited a second as she chose the opportune moment to whisk him aboard his target. A cold tingling enveloped his body and suddenly he was standing in the center of a dim cargo hold. Instantly he moved out of site and squeezed himself between some large, plastic storage units; a moment later a Trigan came in and bustled closely over to where he was hiding. Tom could just see him through the cracks between the storage bins. The beings pale skin seemed to illuminate the area around him as he quickly checked the databanks of a large stack of blue bins. The air in the room was still and ominous and the pale alien appeared slightly nervous to be in its vast darkness. Tom shifted on his feet and stilled when his pant let brushed against the bins stacked directly behind him. The Trigan looked over sharply, wide green eyes flashing in nervousness. For a long moment neither of them moved and Tom watched intently as the being let out an exasperated sigh and hurriedly finished checking his notes to the bins databanks. Everything seemed to be in order and the Trigan hurried out of the dark hold. He must have been afraid of the dark.

Tom let out a brief sigh of relief and then shuffled sideways from out between his storage units. Near the door he would find an access port where he would be able to insert his disposable AI, but as he carefully navigated through a series of ceiling high stacks and silently approached the door he realized his first problem. There was nothing to hide behind if anyone came through, and he did not have time to study the activities of the cargo bay workers.

"Anj'azi." He whispered.

"Yes." She replied clearly through the hearing monitor tucked inside his ear.

"Are there any other access ports within this cargo bay?" They had assumed that this one would be safe to use and hadn't fully looked into others.

"Affirmative, but it is unlikely you can reach it."

"Why not?"

"It is…located in the ceiling, in the center of the cargo bay. It appears to have been placed in an illogical area." Tuvok would love Anj'azi. Tom moved slowly around the corner and looked up at the far away ceiling. There was no way he could get up there; the stacked units were to far from the center of the room to be of any use. Damn. He looked back at the door. He would have to follow his first plan. He reached into his pocket and removed a tiny alloy laser. He looked carefully at the door and took two quick steps towards his destination before he stopped and quickly disappeared behind a crate again. Two beings entered the bay this time, talking quietly and excitedly as they hurried to a rack that carried torpedo shaped casings. Tom heard one of them grunt as they pulled one object out of the rack, and then heard their slower footsteps heading back towards the door as they struggled to carry their burden between them. Their uniforms, Tom saw, were a pale silvery colour and almost blended perfectly with their skin. The moment the door slid shut behind them Tom slid silently forward and quickly scanned the wall. Finding what he wanted he turned on the laser and quickly drew it in a small rectangular pattern, leaving a faint burn mark so that Tom wouldn't lose his spot. Slipping on thin fire retardant gloves Tom then began the slower process of cutting through the thin alloy. His laser was miniscule, which meant it would leave a very thin cut that would be easier to conceal. It also meant it would take a minute longer to cut than with a larger tool.

There were very few sparks and Toms' hand was as steady as ever as it slowly traced his outline. When he'd finished cutting three of the four sides he turned off the laser, flipped it over and pried the metal a small ways away from the wall with the tools flat end. He stuck his fingers between the metal and pulled down until there was enough room for him to insert his hands. If anybody came in now he wouldn't be able to hide the flap of metal jutting out of the wall. His hands weren't shaking at all, but he could feel the perspiration trickle down from his forehead to his cheek. He quickly pulled the degradable AI chip from his pocket and placed it beside two wires he had cut the moment before. Holding the chip in place with his thumb and one of the wires over the ship with his index finger he quickly soldered the two together. He did the same with the other wire and waited a moment, staring intently at the now dangling chip. When a tiny yellow pilot light blinked twice he hurriedly bent the metal as best he could, back into place. He ended up having to quickly tack weld it at two tiny points to ensure it wouldn't pop open and then he moved stealthily back to his hiding spot between the bins.

All the AI had needed was to be routed into two input wiring systems. The blinking yellow lights had told Tom that he'd gotten the wires right, but it would still take half an hour for the AI to upload into the system and then it would only give him limited control for about twenty-five minutes. Within that time he had to locate his crewmates so he could be sure they were all beamed off the ship. He worked his way between the bins until he reached ones stacked only five high, where he quickly climbed up and then lay flat on his stomach, pulling a small PADD from one of his pockets. Accessing it he occasionally glanced at the door, waiting for more intrusions. The PADD's screen illuminated and a schematic of the deck he was on filled the screen. He needed to get from here to an access hatch where he could climb down a floor to reach the prison. Once the AI fully integrated into the Trigan system he would be able to lower to force fields that confined his crew. From there it was a simple matter of swapping Voyagers crew with the Trigan crew on Voyager.

"Two large ships have appeared on close range sensors. They are Trigan in design and heading this way. ETA sixty-three minutes." Anj'azi announced and Tom nodded tightly to himself.

"Affirmative." He replied quietly, even though there was no one around to hear him. It was going to be a snug escape but Tom thought they could manage, so long as there were no complications. He grimly stared at his map. He had planned on waiting until the AI was up and running before finding his shipmates, that way the AI could tell him when the halls were clear of Trigan, but he felt an urgency surge up in his chest that told him he needed to get there a bit sooner. With this agitation welling inside of him he decided to make a move. He got up and stepped lightly onto the next pile of bins, and then the next. The doors opened once again and he silently lay flat, hoping they hadn't seen him. There were two voices again and they headed straight for Tom.

"They want these bins to transfer all those weapons they found on that ship. One of the best catches we've ever had." The tiny hearing monitor in his ear translated their conversation for him. "Do you think four are enough?"

"It's what they asked for. If they want more they can come get it themselves." A soft whirring sound vibrated through the air and Tom saw the boxes on his left shift up a notch. They must have a gravitation lift to move these boxes. Quickly and silently Tom rolled to his left, grabbed the edge of his bin as he went over the edge and quickly lowered himself down. His feet touched the stack of four bins just as they began moving and he dropped silently to lie flat on the top of his new stack. It dropped slightly with his extra weight and then the lift accommodated him. He listened carefully to see if either of the movers heard him, and lay as flat as possible when the bins began to move towards the door. As they passed through the doorway and into the brightly lit hall Tom felt his shoulders and then his rear slightly scrape the doors arch. For a brief moment he feared he would be pushed off of his perch.

They had turned right and he thanked the local deity for small favours, and stopped thanking them when he risked a glimpse at the floor. This corridor was unusually tall, which fit well for the storage bin transfer, but the floor was a grate that he could see right through to the corridor below them, and the three below that. This was going to make sneaking around a bit more difficult. He looked over the edge again and noticed that there was nobody else in the corridor that he was traveling except his two chauffeurs, and the hallways seemed fairly empty below him as well. He rolled on to his back and reached up, grabbing at a sturdy beam that traversed, along with many others, across the corridors ceiling. He held tightly as the bins slid away from under him and hung, semi-tucked, in mid air for a moment until they turned the corner just up ahead. Looking down to make sure no one was in the corridor below him he dropped down, not able to muffle the thud his landing caused. He pulled three darts from a pocket and double checked that his staff was still attached properly in its holster before heading back ten steps and turning into a corridor they had passed moments before. He stopped to listen, heard no footsteps, and continued on.

His eyes glanced everywhere, every second. He couldn't afford to be caught now, not while people depended on him. He wasn't too impressed with the ship, especially not after flying Voyager and his own Kria'dar. The grated floor had sporadic patches of solid metal that he assumed were placed there because of broken grating or a lack of grating. Whatever the reason he used it to his advantage whenever he heard someone on the deck below. Stopping there he would crouch low with his darts at the ready. So far so good, but he was anxious for his AI to be uploaded into the system. If they decided to do a security scan of their ship his cover would be blown. He prayed that they were too confident for such measures, too elated by their latest catch to be paranoid about intruders.

The footsteps below passed and he moved on. Three doors down and he would reach the waste room, which allowed access to anyone and contained an entrance to a maintenance shaft. Two doors away and he heard footsteps suddenly coming from up ahead. He ran for it, and practically threw himself through his selected door. It slid shut silently and he quickly headed to the side and pressed himself flat against the wall just behind a support beam that covered most, but not all, of his body. It was very dark in this room, and when the door to the corridor opened it spilt light in a v-shape across the room but, thankfully, it didn't touch Tom. He watched in apprehension as a slim shadow stood for a moment in the doorway and he prepared to throw his tranquilizing dart, but then the suspicious being left and the door closed softly. He waited a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the new darkness of the room. There were blinking lights from panels all over the room and on the wall. In one corner stood a giant tank that glowed a pale mustard colour that had tubes entering it from the sides and, he suspected, underneath. He didn't care to know what any of this was.

The room was unkempt, there were various tools lying around on the floor and an assortment of multi-material boxes piled awkwardly in another corner. Tom walked across the dark room carefully, not wanting to disturb anything, and found the access hatch he was looking for. It opened with a bit of a squeal and he climbed through quickly, banging his knees as he went, and shut it securely behind him. It was pitch black. He pulled out his PADD that contained the map and activated it, slightly illuminating the space around him. When they got off this ship Tom was never going to go into another small and dark space for as long as it was his choice. He staved off the panic by focusing on his map and finding his location. Just like the Jeffries tubes on Voyager, though much smaller, Tom could get to almost anywhere on the ship through them. He began crawling backwards until he hit a t-junction and could turn and crawl forward, creating a larger bruise on his knee with each step. All he could hear was his slightly ragged breathing and he forced himself to calm. He couldn't hear things properly if his heavy breathing blocked out all other sound.

"How much time until those ships arrive?" Getting to the prisoners was taking longer than he thought, so it was a good thing he left earlier.

"Forty-two minutes. Six minutes until the degradable AI is functional."

"Thanks." He muttered and continued to pull himself through the narrow space. He'd be there in a few minutes, and then he would wait for the AI before making the move. They would have plenty of time to get away before those other ships arrived.

Gerald Bathet sat in his corner of the cell and fumed silently as he stared out at the guard. He was not the only one who was beyond pissed at the moment and he hoped that if it wasn't he who got his hands on the guard first, then it was B'Elanna Torres. She would tear him limb from limb and he was sure that the only person who might attempt to stop her would be Tuvok, and there was a large emphasis on the _might_.

About an hour ago their guard, along with eight others, had stormed over to Captain Janeway and Harry's cells and dropped the force fields, ordering them out into the middle of the room. With all those weapons pointed at them they weren't going to argue. It looked like they had finally grown tired after four, or was it five, days of trying to access Voyager's computers without the proper clearance codes. It was obvious they didn't want to damage Voyager's control systems and had realized that they needed help. They weren't too happy about that. As the twelve Voyagers and the nine armed guards stood in the middle of the room the rest of the prisoners had stared in worry. This was something new, and they had all feared when the routine would change.

Nobody in the cells could hear what was being said, but they guessed it was along the lines of demanding the access codes for Voyager. The alien marched up to Janeway and struck her harshly across the face. She kept her head bowed for a moment before looking up and glaring at him. There was a small trickle of blood on her split lip. Every crewmember was now standing and glaring at the being, watching in silence. The guards tried to ignore them, but a few shifted on their feet nonetheless as over one hundred pairs of eyes stared in anger.

More muted words tumbled from the interrogator and his green eyes flashed in anger when not one of the Voyagers' even moved. He hit her again, and again she returned to glaring at him, squaring her shoulders and daring him to get the answers he wanted from her. He suddenly became aware of everyone staring at him and quickly had the guards herd the twelve members of Voyager out of the room. The crew had been quietly fuming ever since. Not one of them would forgive these beings for hurting their Captain, but what was worse right now was that none of them had any clue what was happening to their twelve missing crewmates. They were all worried.

Torres was almost finished the shield disrupter that she was working on, but after that what would happen? Gerald figured they would wander out of their cages and listen to Tuvok tell them how they might be able to get back to their ship. Then the Trigan would become aware that they had escaped and just teleport them back into their little homes, one by one. A few might be able to get to the transporter room and gain control, then they could get back to Voyager, grab whatever weapons might be left on the ship and fight their way out. It was all very sketchy, but there wasn't a whole lot else they could do. The entire crew was at the mercy of these looting ghosts and he wasn't sure if they would be able to escape, even with the force fields lowered. Still, it would be interesting to see what they could accomplish together, and if there was one thing he'd learned while being on Voyager, it was that this crew could wreak havoc when it choose too.

Frustrated he got to his feet and went to stand by Tahla and Samantha and stared at the guard some more. Samantha had finally started talking to him again since their capture. She had been angry with him ever since he pulled that stupid stunt on Paris and it had taken a distraction of this magnitude to get her to acknowledge him again, even if she wasn't overly friendly. He figured that she even blamed Paris's departure on him, and while he admitted he might have had a small part in it, he doubted Paris would up and leave because of one stupid confrontation. The pilot had been putting up with pranks like that for the entire trip, it was no wonder he finally got fed up and left. In honesty that was what a lot of the crew had been hoping would happen; they had been trying to drive him off. It was too bad that their success wasn't as sweet as they thought it would be.

Tom Paris was no longer a member of their crew, so now they just had one less mouth to feed, one less pilot to fly the ship and play ambassador to alien dignitaries. It was just one less person able to be a field medic on away missions, to help out in engineering or stellar cartography or to create new holoprograms. Bathet had finally realized, though it was a little too late, that Paris actually had some uses after all. When he left the Captain had been beyond upset, and they had left Widariat space so slowly that it was obvious she was hoping he would come back. He still didn't like Paris, but he could admit that he had been a bit unfair towards him. Breaking into his quarters and stealing that toy of his was possibly the stupidest thing he had ever done, and then parading it around like that…he deserved the reprimand and restriction to quarters. What he had never been prepared for was actually seeing Paris get angry, and he had been well past furious on that occasion.

Well, almost being killed by the pilot had, in a twisted sense, forced him to respect the man. He had always figured Paris for a pansy, never really sticking up for himself. He could admit now that the restraint Paris had shown, in light of many childish actions over the last year and a half, was more impressive than if he had fought back. It showed a level of dignity that Bathet had never associated with the man. And if Tom Paris could hear his thoughts right now, he'd probably be laughing. _Got what we deserved_ Bathet thought darkly and his glare deepened.

Looking around there were at least three members in every cell at any given time staring at the guard, but this guard wasn't letting it get to him, he was safe as long as the force fields were in place. _I wouldn't get too comfortable buddy_ he thought darkly and then the guard suddenly looked up, surprise on his features before a black body fell from the ceiling and landed right on him, flattening him to the deck. He wasn't getting up any time soon, but the person who did stand was the last person he ever thought he'd see again.

"Tom!" Samantha cried suddenly and every member of Voyager was standing in the prison and watching as Tom hog-tied the guard. Gerald could see his lips moving but didn't know whom he would be speaking too, unless he'd gone over the edge and was talking to himself. Then there was a shimmer and suddenly voices from the other cells could be heard and they stepped, slowly, out of their cells for the first time in days. Bathet wasted no time in marching up to Tom to hear what his plan was, and noted that the remaining command staff of Voyager was thinking along the same lines. Tuvok was the only one who didn't seem surprised to see him.

"Lieutenant, I am assuming you have a plan."

"When have I ever let you down Tuvok?" But there was no humour in the pilot's words as he gazed intently around the crew, who had massed in an unorganized group as they tried to figure out what was going on. Tom's clothes and flesh was covered in what must be dust and his sweat was causing his black t-shirt to cling to his chest. "Release the gas." He said out loud to no one in particular and Bathet assumed he had someone off ship helping him out. That would make sense. Tom's tense gaze met his own briefly before looking at Tuvok and Torres. "Where are they?" He was all business and Bathet noticed several crew around them pull to attention at his commanding tone.

"They were taken away an hour ago. We do not know their location." Tuvok answered. Tom nodded and then held a hand to his ear. Nobody was talking, well aware that too much noise could give them away. The guard on the floor groaned, opening one green eye, and Bathet took great pleasure in kicking him sharply in the head, sending him back to oblivion. Nobody seemed to pay any attention.

"Scan for possible locations of the missing crew and on my mark initiate the exchange." He looked sharply at Tuvok. "In approximately thirty-three minutes two large Trigan ships will rendezvous with these pirates. Currently every Trigan on Voyager has been knocked unconscious. My ship will transport you to Voyager in groups and send the Trigan here. Once you have control of Voyager you will wait only as long as my ship says it is safe too, after that point you have to go to warp. The rest of us will meet you at the coordinates my ship designates."

"I'll go with you to find the others." B'Elanna demanded but Tom instantly shook his head.

"No, you and Tuvok need to be onboard Voyager. If we don't make it you'll be the only senior officers left and Voyager will need you. Bathet?" Tom looked at him in question and he nodded instantly, picking up the unconscious guards weapon, examining how it worked. He made sure he didn't look surprised that the pilot requested his help, and he noticed that the weapon was a simple design. "You won't see my ship, she's cloaked. Questions?" There were none. "Thirty-one minutes." He looked gravely at both of them and then motioned for Gerald to follow. He did so without a word as Paris led the way to the entrance. He was armed with darts and a stick and moved silently. Bathet was glad he was on their side. They stopped before disappearing through the doors and Bathet glanced quickly behind him. His crew was already being beamed out of there, and he grinned in relief, looking back at Tom. The grin was returned, although it was rather cold, and then they moved silently out of the prison, weapons ready.


	14. Chapter 14

"How many are we looking for?"

"Twelve. They've been gone for about an hour." Tom didn't say anything in response, but Bathet noticed the tightening of his jaw. They stopped at a bend in the corridor and Tom peered around the corner quickly, before nodding and stepping out to continue the silent approach to where their friends and, in this galaxy, their family, were being held. Bathet didn't know how Tom knew where to go, but he trusted the man enough to follow him at this point. Hell, he had come all this way just to help them, the least Bathet could do was follow without question. He also assumed that Tom was in communication with somebody on the ship he came on. Most likely it was the Widariat's whom he had become so familiar with, who had treated him better then most of the Voyager's had.

Tom held up his hand suddenly, the dirt mingled with sweat created a muddy pattern along his forearm and for a moment Bathet wondered how the hell he had become so dirty. They stopped and slid back to lean against the wall beside a door. It must be their destination, but the fact that there were no guards in the hallway boasted of these pirates confidence. It irked Bathet that their crew had been so easily overrun by such incompetent assholes. Tom looked at him suddenly, staring at him with an intensity that almost matched the rage that had been in his eyes when he had attacked Bathet. He was very glad that this time Tom's anger wasn't directed at him.

"There are five guards inside." He hissed softly, and Bathet's hands reflexively tightened on his weapon. "Two in the middle, two to the right of the door, and one to the left." He paused a moment to make sure he understood, and if the situation hadn't been so dire or Tom's voice so commanding, Bathet might have been insulted at the moments pause. He was a security guard trained under Tuvok, he knew how to understand situations like this in an instant. However, he just nodded in confirmation. "I'll go high and take the one on the left and the two in the middle. You take the two on the right. The instant we know everyone is secured you will all be beamed to Voyager. Clear?"

"Clear." Because it really was very straight forward, and there was absolutely no way he was going to question Tom when he was this determined. The icy blue eyes stared at him a moment longer and then Tom silently stepped in front of the door, three darts held in his left hand and one in his right. He was poised for attack and he meant business. Bathet checked that his weapon was armed and moved in beside Tom, bending low on his knees.

"On three. One, two, three." And the moment of attack was upon them. They only had a precious few seconds to act before the Trigan figured out they were under attack, and so neither man hesitated as the door swiftly slid open and they took one step into the room firing. For Bathet it was just like the simulations that the security teams on Voyager practiced weekly. He jumped forward a step, twisted to rest on one knee while his weapon was already being trained on his targets. He fired quickly, not giving himself or anyone else a moment to properly figure the situation out. The two men who had been standing around his crew, their weapons trained on the group in general, looked up as if expecting someone. The moment they realized it wasn't who they had been waiting for was also the moment they fell unconscious to the floor and his crewmembers kneeling closest to them quickly snatched up their weapons. Bathet turned to assess the rest of the room, standing slowly as he did.

Tom had, true to his word, taken out the guard on the left. The Trigan was twitching almost violently on the floor, a bloody dart in one of his hands. The middle of the room was a different situation though, and Bathet froze in his place, slowly lowering his weapon to his side so as not to antagonize the situation any further. One pirate, an ugly woman who's clothing was speckled in places with red blood, blood that was obviously not her own, lay absolutely still on the ground. A dart was sticking straight out of her neck and Bathet wasn't sure if she was breathing. He took a quick look at Tom, and determined that no, the woman was no longer alive, and that had been the intention.

Standing above her lifeless body was where the situation became difficult: Harry Kim was half standing half being held up by his abductor, who had a thick arm wrapped around his neck and a sharp blade pressed right above his jugular. Harry was the reason the woman was spattered in blood, and he didn't look at all happy about it as his sweaty bangs fell over his eyes and he grasped weekly at the arm threatening his air supply. He was breathing heavily out of his nose, and for a moment his breathing was all anyone heard as he struggled to stay standing and not move.

He had blood dripping down his face and over his lip from a broken nose and a split eyebrow. He had a knife wound on his upper chest that was causing a stream of crimson to slide down his bare torso, smearing in places on his light golden skin, and halt where it met with the waistband of his black uniform pants. What was worse, however, was the beginning of the bruises that covered his upper body and looked to travel around to his back. Bathet ground his teeth together as he looked the young man over, feeling absolute disgust and anger rise within him and helpless to do anything about it; because his captor was hiding behind most of his body, and any move they took could mean a slit throat for Harry. Harry was handling it remarkably well if the pissed off look in his eyes was anything to go by.

It only took a moment to realize the captive was staring right at Tom, completely unsurprised to see the man, his best friend. After watching for a moment more Bathet realised that somehow the two men were communicating. Tom didn't appear to be enjoying the conversation.

"Release him." Janeway suddenly pushed forward from the group that had been surrounded, and surprise, surprise she had the felled guards weapon in her hand, an ugly bruise encircling her eye. If looks could kill.

"So you can kill me, I don't think so." The man spat, jostling Harry and causing him to wince.

"If you don't release him I'll kill you either way." Tom spoke up, softly, calmly. Bathet shifted lightly on his feet, suddenly feeling more terrified then he had any right to be. Tom's voice had caused shivers of fear to travel down his spine, and Bathet was pretty sure that Tom had forgotten he was even there. Harry didn't move a muscle, he just kept staring at Tom.

The pirate holding Harry looked directly at Tom, probably for the first time, and his eyes widened suddenly. Then he shook his head.

"No way, you wouldn't risk his life like that."

"I've done worse then just risking peoples lives." This time Bathet took a step away from Tom, feeling the unadulterated rage coming off of him in waves despite the calm voice and deceptively stony eyes. This time Harry did react, his eyes filling with a new anger that was directed at Tom instead of his captor. There was something going on here that Bathet didn't understand, and he was pretty sure he never wanted to if it brought that much hate to the young Asians face. Now Harry was truly pissed.

"Fuck this." He growled, and suddenly his hands dug into the arm holding him by the neck and he pulled hard, dropping in the same instant and twisting his head away from the blade. It was enough for Tom to react, as though he had been expecting this to happen, and he was lunging forward at the same time. It was four steps and Tom grabbed Harry's attacker by literally diving over his half hanging friend and tackling the Trigan right across the chest. The alien never knew what hit him as they crashed to the ground and his head smashed against the metal flooring, his eyes glazing over in confusion and pain. Bathet heard a grunt from Tom as he moved to help the bloodied Harry to stand. The kid was having none of it as he pushed himself to his knees and then his feet, spinning around to face Tom.

The pilot, covered in filth and sweat and now blood, was pulling the blade from his captives clenched fist, and then slowly, methodically bringing it to his throat. There was something animalistic and unholy in his eyes as he quickly, efficiently, and savagely brought the weapon to plunge into the beings chest. There was a moment of shocked eyes, a light puff of breath, and then release as the pirate instantly died, no struggle.

Tom stood, slowly, bringing the dripping blade with him and he spit on the corpse at his feet.

"Fucking Cardassians." He growled, and then he twisted, his eyes completely black with rage as he looked around at the absolutely shocked faces staring at him. He wasn't with them, and his eyes were filled with a vengeance and pain so raw that it took Bathet's breath away.

"Tom." Harry stepped between the Voyager's and his friends, their friends. He held his hand out, the anger from before still in his eyes but now it was replaced by an anguish that Bathet still wasn't quite grasping. "Tom, give me the knife."

"I can't. I have to kill them."

"No Tom, you don't." Tom was confused a moment, but then his look hardened.

"Not them," he waved his empty hand at the people behind him, at the absolutely silent Voyager's. Ensign Barnaine began to sob quietly and Gerron Tem wrapped an arm around her, but his attention was on Tom and there was an understanding in his eyes that was too wise to be coming from someone so young. From someone who had experienced so much pain in his own life. "I have to kill the rest, so they'll stop."

"Tom, they're not Cardassian's." Tom's shifty eyes looked hard at Harry, and they slowly looked his best friend up and down, mapping every single mark upon his skin.

"Close enough." Harry's outstretched hand was shaking; Tom's whole body was beginning to shake as he stared at Harry, no longer focused on his face but on his battered torso.

"It's not as bad as it looks. I'll be fine."

"They might.." Tom's voice cracked and he looked pleadingly at Harry. "They might go after children next time. They might peel their skin off and…and…god the things they could do! Don't you understand? They're monsters!"

"They are not Cardassian!" Harry said forcefully, staring hard, his arm shaking more. Tom looked at the outstretched arm, stared a moment, coming to a decision as he flipped the blade in his hand and held it out to Harry, hilt first. Then, as though his outburst had never happened, the cool, brisk mask of determination and business once again filled his eyes. He looked away from his best friend quickly though, as though he was suddenly ashamed. HE avoided all of their gazes.

"Is everyone accounted for?" He was reaching into his pocket. Janeway was the first to respond, always the quickest to adapt to situations.

"Yes, we're all here Tom. Thank you." He looked up at that, met her gaze, and nodded briskly. He pushed a button on the gadget in his hand and an orange light blinked on.

"Anj'azi, do you have a lock?" He paused, listening to the answer that they couldn't hear. "Activate the degradable Trojan virus and beam everyone back to their ship." Then he looked back at Harry, smiled a little bit sadly and began to fall. Harry caught him even as the light of the transporter surrounded them all.

The instant they rematerialized Harry was working on gaining a proper hold on his best friend, frantically searching his body and noticing, for the first time, the bloody hole on his side.

"Tom!" He hissed, looking around for an emergency med kit and barely taking in his surroundings.

"I didn't quite avoid his knife the way I planned. I can't be perfect every time you know." Tom coughed a little but grinned at Harry all the same, the torment from his eyes gone at the moment, replaced by relief at seeing his best friend. He grabbed at Harry's arms, his hand slipping on the wet skin.

"No, you can only be perfect when it comes to other people's safety."

"Well, that's not really an option. Anj'azi." He called out to the room in general. "Take us out of here and stay close to Voyager. The moment we're at a safe distance beam us both over to her and then," he coughed "then hide both ships signatures and deploy the dummies." He grinned at Harry, and despite the situation Harry grinned back. "I didn't think we'd be able to get you out of there."

"I never doubted it for a second. Actually, I thought it would take at least another day for you to arrive." Harry replied, holding his friend a little tighter as he was practically sprawled in his lap.

"A day? You really don't believe in me do you." But it wasn't a statement or a question and Harry didn't respond to the joke as Tom began to shake in his arms. "Another day…another day and you would no longer be you. You can't become like me Harry. Promise me you'll never become like me." Now Tom's grip on his arm was painful, adding bruises to the ones already there, but Harry would accept these bruises any time. He didn't promise his best friend anything as he held him in his arms, knowing that he couldn't and didn't want to promise him that. Tom had his faults, but he had so much more then that, whether he wanted to see it or not. Harry would strive to be more like Tom, and he would be a better person for it. This he believed with all his heart.

He held Tom for a long time as he lay shaking in his arms, his face pressed against his dirty chest and his silent tears mingling with Harry's blood. The tears didn't stop until Voyager's EMH efficiently and gently administered a sedative and took the pilot into Surgery. The entire crew waited tensely for news, and when it was announced ship wide that Tom was awake and already arguing with the Doctor a cheer went up. Finally, they were a whole crew again, and now they understood exactly what that meant.

Tom sat at the helm of Voyager, running his hands across her gently before signing off and standing from his chair. Harry watched him as he grinned at her and she smiled back flirtatiously, almost hopefully, but Tom was already moving towards the turbolift, giving a small but real smile at the Commander. The Commander, in return, grinned brightly as though he had received a gift, which Harry figured he had, because Tom didn't 'really' smile at many people. In fact, that was probably the first real smile he had given Chakotay since resuming his post on Voyager. Harry stepped into the lift beside him and when the doors closed he pushed him playfully.

"Jackass."

"What? What did I do?" Tom tried to look innocent.

"You're just lucky that I'm the one in charge of communications, or that conversation you were having with Anj'azi for most of the shift would have been reported."

"Please, I fly Voyager three shift a week, can you really blame me for getting bored when we go in a straight line."

"I'm not even going to grace that comment with a remark."

"You just did."

"Shut up."

"It's 'shut up Captain' thank you very much." Harry rolled his eyes but didn't say anything more as they stepped out of the lift and began heading towards the cargo bay turned docking bay. He ignored the way Tom tensed slightly whenever a member of the crew walked by them, and he ignored how Tom tensed even more at the ones that greeted him. It had been a month since they had been rescued from the Trigan, and while Tom put a happy face on and pretended he was comfortable around everyone Harry knew differently. Tom didn't trust this crew anymore now then he had before he left. However, he was happier, because now he didn't have to deal with them on nearly the same level as he had before.

However, things had changed quite a bit, and people were still trying to adapt to their new situation. Harry, for one, was thrilled by how things were turning out, because in all honesty he no longer trusted all of his fellow Voyager's, in fact he had stopped respecting many of them as a whole before they ever met the Widariat's. Tom leaving had just solidified his anger towards them and they were no longer just looking for Tom's forgiveness, but for Harry's as well.

They stepped into the Cargo bay and Tom sighed that happy little sigh he couldn't seem to help every time he laid eyes on his ship.

"Hey beautiful, I'm home." He called out across the bay.

"Oh Tom, where have you been all my life?" Was the sarcastic response as Anj'azi's voice filled the entire room. Harry laughed at Tom's snort. His friend had been absolutely thrilled to learn that his ship's AI had decided to adapt to his wit and sarcasm. Harry often heard the two arguing together, but Tom usually gained the upper hand when he threatened setting her up on a date with the Doc, which she would have to attend because he would make it an order.

"You know, I like her more every day." Harry grinned, Tom's remark was put on hold as they were whisked up by the transporter and rematerialized in the living room.

"You're just saying that to get on her good side."

"I'm already on her good side." Tom snorted and walked off to his quarters to change. Harry did the same. Things really had changed. Tom had given Harry full access to his ship, even so far as imprinting his DNA within the ships mainframe and, basically, becoming apart of the family.

Harry had helped Tom back to Anj'azi when he was well enough to leave the infirmary and Tom had, with absolutely no fanfare, told him to stick his hand on a panel outside the ships cargo holds. It had taken Harry a full five minutes to realize exactly what that had meant. It had taken him no time at all to decide what he was going to do next.

Tom had agreed to remain a part time pilot on Voyager and a part time member of Starfleet. This was something completely unheard of. Never before had Starfleet entertained the idea of a partially instated crew. Well, this was the Delta quadrant and Tom Paris. The two kind of went hand in hand with the 'things unheard of' category. Janeway agreed that while Tom was on board Voyager he would be under her command, but while he was on his own ship he was an ally. Of course, he now held the rank of Captain on Voyager as well; it just didn't hold the same authority as Janeway, understandably.

That first night Harry had been given full access to Tom's ship he moved in, beaming everything from his quarters into the ships second largest quarters. After all, a sidekick needed to remains close. He now operated under the same rules as Tom, only when he was on Anj'azi Tom had decided that the title of Commander was appropriate…or whatever else he felt like calling him at the time, which consisted of the names Toto, Robin, Riker, Chief, Second, Number two and a rather impressive array of other things that Harry usually didn't know the connection to.

They worked the same shifts on Voyager so that they could fly Anj'azi with a 'full' crew compliment. Tom absolutely loved flying her, mainly because he could fly her however he wanted. He invited other people aboard, namely Janeway, Chakotay Tuvok, Neelix and Kes, the Doc, and B'Elanna, but that was all. They weren't given any access to his ship whatsoever, and the envious looks Harry sometimes found himself on the receiving end of sent complicated emotions rushing through him. Pride, because he was apart of this, Satisfaction because they weren't, and anger that most people felt they had some sort of right to be there when they had never been there before. How dare they think that Tom should simply trust them after everything that had happened! Sometimes it mad him so angry, but that really depended on who was giving him the look.

The best part about all of this, however, was that Tom was happy. Oh there was a long way to go before he could heal properly, and Harry honestly doubted that Tom would ever fully recover form his life experiences. However, when he was on his ship he relaxed in a way that he had never allowed himself on Voyager. He became more open, more accepting in general, and he no longer locked the darkness away within himself. Kes was helping him with that and, Harry liked to think that he was helping as well.

Harry felt the slight vibration run through the ship that indicated they had left Voyager and, after showering and dressing he went to the living area. He stopped as he saw Tom sitting on the couch, and then he looked to the table to see what had captivated his attention so completely. The Magtaur toy sat, leaning to the right, looking back at Tom. Harry stared a moment, taking in everything that adorned it and recognizing the loss that they represented. He sat in the chair across from Tom, the table and animal between them. His friend's eyes were haunted. Harry didn't say anything; he just sat there and watched his friend watching the toy.

It was a long time before Tom let out a shaky breath and finally met Harry's eyes, and if the pilot's eyes were a little moist Harry ignored it. Tom nodded at him, and sat up straighter. He leaned forward and curled his fingers around the lock of hair, gently rubbing it until it all fell from his grip. He stared a moment longer.

"Anj'azi. Beam the magtaur toy into space. Don't rematerialize it." A few moments later it disappeared. Harry kept staring at Tom as he stared at the table, until the blue eyes looked up again. Tom nodded at him, stood, and moved to the bridge, calmly taking his seat. Harry joined him a moment later, silent, and as they shot ahead of Voyager to scout out the path ahead he allowed himself a smile. Tom wasn't better, he had a long way to go; but mixed with the pain and sorrow, the anger and the despair that haunted his eyes was the first true sense of peace and hope that he may have ever carried. Harry bore as silent witness, and there was no place he would rather be.

**END**

**Note's:** Okay, I know the ending was rushed, but I just wanted it finished. I hope that what I did write was enough of a wrap for everyone! Thanks again for all of your fantastic comments over the years!

Cheers.


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